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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850947">Vampire Money</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeuthidaRegina/pseuds/TeuthidaRegina'>TeuthidaRegina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Don't take any of this seriously it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever written, Vampires, What's the time period? I have no clue, Zombies, monster au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeuthidaRegina/pseuds/TeuthidaRegina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon Freeman, vampire hunter, has been hired to take out the vampire that lives in a castle deep in the forest. It doesn't sound like a complicated job; but when he gets there, he finds a team of fellow hunters that don't seem all the way human, a castle overrun with zombies, and the mysterious absence of the vampire he's been hired to kill.</p><p>Also, there's this really pale guy with a fake vampire hunter's license who won't stop following him around.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>166</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Orange Is A Bad Color For Hunting Vampires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Some would argue that the idea of polishing a stake was a completely pointless exercise. If it was sharp enough to get through a vampire’s skin, it didn’t need to be pretty. But Gordon did it anyway. He’d be at a bit of a loss if you asked him why. Eventually, he’d give you one of a few different replies. He liked the way the polished wood looked, he thought it made him look more professional, or if he was feeling sarcastic that day, if he was a vampire then he’d want to be put to rest with something that looks a little more dignified than a big stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was doing it now because he was bored. He was sitting on a bus, head lazily resting against the window and eyes on the stake in his hands. He winced as a bump in the road caused him to nearly stab himself. He sighed. He could do this later anyways. He carefully put the stake back in its box, the polish and a cloth going in next to it. His hands were shaking slightly, he noted with irritation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped nobody would notice. He wasn’t exactly a full-time vampire hunter. Last time had been years ago, and he’d had help then. Looking around, he was the only one on the bus. Nobody around to see him self-consciously flex (were his arms still strong enough to get the stake in quick?), double check his stakes (were they sharp enough to pierce easily, strong enough not to snap in half?) and look over his outfit (was that coffee stain noticeable?). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know who had hired him. That wasn’t terribly unusual, if a vampire had too many eyes on the people they fed on; when the vampire was dead, whoever hired him would come out of hiding. They’d be proud to let people know who’d been brave enough to bring someone to save them. Unless Gordon ended up dead. Then they’d hide until the vampire found and ate them. Trying not to look concerned (and failing, but again, nobody around to see) Gordon casually glanced out the window. There was a castle looming in the distance. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>castle.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was dead. Generally speaking, the kinds of vampires that live in dramatic castles looming over dark, tangled forests scattered with little frightened villages aren’t pushovers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little frightened villages like the one the bus was driving into right now, passing through the gates of a wall. It wasn’t high, meant to just keep out anything in the woods that might wander too close. A guard stood on either side of the entrance; one stood at attention, the other slouched lazily against the wall. The latter happened to be on the same side as the window Gordon was leaning against, and they made eye contact as the bus passed, essentially by accident. The guard leaned his spear against the wall and started jogging behind the bus- the other guard didn’t bother trying to stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t notice. He was already thinking over his next steps. There was a small inn in town (didn’t get much business; he assumed tourism wasn’t big here), and his room was paid for as long as he needed it. Apparently others had been hired to help him, but he didn’t have any information other than their names. Bubby, Coomer, Tommy. Didn’t sound like vampire hunters to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t exactly going to refuse help, though. So he shrugged, picking up his bag (he didn’t bring much stuff with him) as the bus came to a stop. As soon as he stepped out, he saw someone running towards him, coming to a stop inches from his face. “Hey. Can I see your passport?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused. “My… my passport? I don’t have my passport with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Suspicious. You’re a vampire hunter, right? You’ve got to have your passport. It’s, uh, required.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I mean, I’ve got a license to kill. Well, not kill exactly, I’m only allowed to stab vampires.” Gordon said. He pulled out a small card, showing it to the stranger, who examined it closely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool. I’m a vampire hunter too.” The stranger said, pulling out a piece of paper that just said BENRY. All caps. Gordon frowned. He looked over himself- dressed in a practical (and very fashionable, shut up) outfit consisting mostly of a thick leather vest pulled over his shirt, jeans with splattered blood stains that never quite washed out, and holders at his side for stakes, and an orange cloak pulled over the whole thing (he was cold, and it was the only clean cloak he had with him)- and looked at Benrey- in an overstuffed puffy vest, jorts, and crocs. He looked at his license to stab vampires- very clean, neat, professional- and Benrey’s piece of paper- crinkled, torn, and a little burnt at the edges. “I’ve killed before and will do it again.” Benrey said helpfully, sensing Gordon’s doubt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...If you’re a vampire hunter, why was I hired instead?” Gordon said, after a long pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged. “I’m alone. Nobody care me.” He said, not sounding very upset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then.” Gordon said, mildly concerned. “Well, uh… see you around.” He started to leave, but heard footsteps following him. He paused, glancing back. Benrey was standing right behind him. He stared for a moment, and Benrey blinked calmly back. He started walking again, and Benrey started following again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still need your passport.” Benrey said, sounding impatient. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t have it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey huffed. “Doesn’t wanna show me his passport… I’m going to have to follow you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, uh. Need it. For the castle. You need a passport to get into the castle.” Benrey said triumphantly, arms folding. “Hand it over, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No.” Gordon said, walking away with increasing speed, Benrey keeping up without any difficulty. By the time he reached the inn, Gordon was in a full-blown sprint, Benrey following without any visible exertion. Gordon practically dove in, closing the door behind him too quick for Benrey to get in. He stood there for a moment, heaving for breath, knuckles white on the handle. “You… are… a freak… of nature.” He gasped, staring at Benrey through the glass of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey frowned. “Rude. Let me in please? Let Benrey in?” He whined, eyes flashing bright blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon huffed. “I’m not going to-” He cut himself off as he watched Benrey walk past him. He looked back at the door, held open by his own hand. He dropped it, uneasy. When he turned around, Benrey had already wandered over to a table with three other people, talking to them. Gordon couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but they all seemed amused as they handed Benrey their passports (why were they all carrying passports?), hardly seeming to notice or care as Benrey slid the passports into his own pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a closer look at the three strangers. He was supposed to meet with three other people, after all. Benrey noticed him staring, and waved him over with a grin. “Gordos Feetman! I found, uh, the rest of your party, for that good team composition. Bubby, Coomer, Tommy.” Benrey said, gesturing to each person as he spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby was tall and balding, the hair left around his head curving up into sharp spikes (it had to be gelled). He wore a flame-patterned overcoat over clothes marred with burns, and a pair of glasses (why were they reflecting light like that, the inn was lit so poorly) hid his eyes. Coomer was shorter and thicker, with fluffy white hair and a cheerful grin spread over his face. The lab coat he wore was closed, concealing the rest of his outfit. Tommy was tall (very tall; he had several inches on Bubby) and lanky, wearing the most normal outfit of everyone at the table in jeans and a t-shirt, though his eyes were a bright yellow Gordon had never seen on a human before (contacts, he assumed).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon smiled, shaking hands with them all. “Hi. Gordon Freeman, not… whatever he just said. I’m the vampire hunter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy smiled back. “I-It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Freeman! This is my first time ever doing something like this, so I look forward to working with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Gordon said with a tone of polite interest, hiding the panic that the words deserved. This… didn’t really seem like the kind of job for a beginner. He didn’t want to see Tommy get hurt because he couldn’t keep up. “What, uh… what did you do before this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy froze up, but his smile stayed on his face, if a little awkwardly now. “I… I lived in the forest!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay. Bubby, Coomer? What do you two do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re wanted for arson!” Coomer said cheerfully. Bubby nodded in agreement, little tongues of fire (with no obvious source) weaving around his fingers as he absently played with the flames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Ah. Done any vampire hunting before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby sighed, turning to look at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed and exuding ungodly amounts of disdain. The fire in his hand intensified, leaping a foot into the air as it brightened with a roaring crackle. “Not professionally. Do you want to look at me and say it’ll be hard?” Bubby scoffed, ignoring the distant call of a timid waiter to sir, please, could you put that out sir, no fire indoors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I am an expert at hand-to-hand combat!” Coomer added. He gently nudged Bubby, who relented and let the fire die. Gordon blinked, silently assessing the team. Bubby had some sort of fire magic thing going on. Coomer was older than he would expect for someone who apparently planned on diving head-first into physical combat, but he did seem very healthy and shockingly muscular. Tommy was… hm. The right thing to do would be to try and convince Tommy to go back to… the forest, huh? That gave him pause. He’d heard that the forest out here was a dangerous place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, how long have you lived in the forest? And if you don’t mind me asking, is there anyone else out there with you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy blinked. “My whole life. I-I live alone, but I have a dog! And my dad visits sometimes…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nice, nice.” Gordon mumbled, thinking. Tommy had to be tougher than he looked, to survive out there alone. Hopefully he would be fine, then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As food started to arrive at the table, Gordon kept talking with the team; it was getting late, and he’d eventually go upstairs to the room he’d been given, but there was no reason not to get to know the people he was going to be killing a vampire with. And no reason not to go over the plan either. They didn’t have detailed maps of the inside of the vampire’s lair (at least, none that the mapmaker survived to complete), but they could still get an idea of how they planned to track down and kill the vampire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was difficult with Benrey leaning over Gordon’s shoulder, interjecting with comments like “Stakes actually make the vampire stronger, so, uh, ditch those.” or “The vampire gives really good neck massages, you should try.” or “I heard that the vampire has an eight-pack, that the vampire is shredded.” Real helpful notes like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey, I don’t think the vampire has- hey, wait a second.” Gordon said, realization kicking in. “You’re not even part of this team! What are you still doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Uh. I think I’m part of the team now. Might be fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fun!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Watch you run around. Watch you try to fight a vampire. Watch you fight a lot of things, the castle is… not good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon grit his teeth. “I’m not bringing you with us to the castle-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t understand.” Benrey said, eyes flashing blue. “I’m following you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Local Benrey Despised By Equines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t get a whole lot of sleep that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lot of that was, admittedly, due to the quality of the inn's beds. Way harder than he would have liked. But alongside that was a decent amount of nerves over the hunt. He was well aware that he was as prepared to go as he was ever going to get. He had his stakes, a team (plus Benrey), and a plan, even if that plan basically boiled down to "find vampire, stab". More complex plans just tended to fall apart under stress anyways. But he still couldn’t shake the dread that had settled over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to let the team see how nervous he was in the morning, or how tired he was. He didn’t even get the chance to rest on the way to the castle; there wasn’t a bus route that would take them up there, and none of them had a car. Benrey had mentioned that there wasn’t anywhere good to park there anyways. Tommy had pointed out that they could rent mules to take them up the road to the castle, which… a little old-fashioned mode of transport, but Gordon wasn’t going to complain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He actually kind of liked mules. They had a reputation for stubbornness, sure, but that mostly boiled down to self-preservation instinct; they would never carry more weight than they could handle, never take a dangerous route, never be ridden to death and never put their rider’s demands over their own safety. He could relate to that unwavering determination to stay alive. ...Of course, the mule was going to carry him to go and fight a blood-sucking monster for money, so he may not be able to relate as much as he’d like to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that concern for self-preservation was actively working against the team here. The mules seemed to absolutely despise three-fifths of the team; Gordon’s mule tolerated him, and Tommy had no trouble with his, but the others… Bubby’s freaked out every time he got close, Coomer’s tried to kick him (and Coomer caught the hoof before it hit, which Gordon didn’t know was possible, holy shit, how strong was this guy?) and Benrey? Benrey waited a good distance away, not even bothering to try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon doesn’t know what they would have done if not for Tommy’s help. Tommy rode around the group, whispering to the mules, which turned out to be a shockingly effective way of getting them to calm. “How are you even doing that?” Gordon asked in shock as Tommy helped Coomer onto a mule that didn’t immediately try to throw him off and attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shrugged cheerfully. “Animals just like me, Mr. Freeman!” He rode over to Benrey, but the mule stopped several feet away, and wouldn’t move an inch no matter how much Tommy tried to urge it onwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey sighed. “I’m gonna walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned. “Benrey, I’m sure I can get one to like you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naaah. Didn’t want to ride the, uh, weird horses anyways. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” Benrey mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Benrey will be fine, let’s go!” Gordon claimed as he steered his mule onto the road up to the castle. He wasn’t going to turn down a chance to ditch Benrey. The rest of the team followed, leaving Benrey behind. Gordon glanced back, seeing Benrey waving as the team rode away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a fairly long trip up to the castle; maybe an hour or so. Long enough for Gordon to mull over some stuff he’s noticed. “Is it just me, or is there something really weird and suspicious about Benrey?” He wondered aloud as they approached the castle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He seems normal!” Coomer chirped, unphased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby shrugged. “Seems fine to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy wouldn’t make eye contact. “He… I don’t think he’s dangerous, Mr. Freeman!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I asked, but…” Gordon sighed. “Something’s kinda off about him, right? I just can’t put my finger on it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Benrey said, right behind him. Gordon cried out, a very undignified squeaking noise, nearly falling off his mule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey! How’d you- that’s not- this isn’t-” Gordon struggled to find words as Benrey calmly watched him, before settling on “We haven’t even seen you since we left, how’d you catch up so fast!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha?” Benrey said, tilting his head. “I said I’d catch up.” He “explained”. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were miles behind us!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I had to run a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sputtered in confusion and anger, before giving up. “I don’t want to know. I just don’t want to know.” He mumbled, turning back to the road. They were almost at the castle now. It loomed above the forest, soaring into the clouds that perpetually blocked the daylight. There must have been dozens of towers stabbing up from the blocky base with no apparent pattern or reasoning, and every time Gordon blinked, there seemed to be more. He realized with a start that that wasn’t just his imagination; the structure was actually changing in size and shape as he watched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I detect an instability in time and space.” Coomer said quietly, staring up at the castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darnold fucked up.” Benrey said nonchalantly, walking up to the rusty yet intricately patterned gates. They flung open at his touch as if weightless, slamming into the fence surrounding the property with a clang. “Y’all coming?” Benrey asked as he stepped into the overgrown garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darnold? Is that the vampire who lives here?” Gordon questioned as he struggled to get off his mule and onto the ground, following the others through the gates. Benrey only laughed in response, and Gordon all but forgot about it when the gates slammed shut with a loud clang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon turned around, immediately trying to reopen the gates, but they were locked firmly. The mules outside had run away back down the road (“They’ll get home safe.” Tommy murmured, a calm statement of fact). Gordon looked up, hopeful that he could climb up (the wrought iron provided plenty of handholds), but the gate was tall and topped with spikes. “WELCOME.” Benrey bellowed, loud enough to make Gordon jump. “To Black Mesa.” Benrey finished with a lackluster monotone, gesturing towards the castle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon tested the gate one more time, as if it had magically unlocked itself in the few seconds since he last tried. It hadn’t. He forced a smile as he turned back to the team, trying not to look terrified. “Well, it’s not like we were planning on leaving too soon anyways. We can worry about that after the vampire’s dead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were general sounds of agreement. Everybody else seemed to be putting on a brave face as well; either that or they weren’t that concerned. He hoped it was the latter; the last thing he needed was for </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>to start cracking under the pressure. And they haven’t even gone inside yet…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gardens were poorly maintained (were they? The curl of wild overgrowth and vines seemed almost deliberately pruned and shaped for dramatic effect), but the wide path that cut through them remained clear. The team stuck together in a clump as they scuttled towards the front door, an eye in every direction. Benrey trailed a little behind the group; the expression on his face was unreadable, but Gordon thought he saw a hint of nervousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful.” Benrey said as they reached the front door. Gordon nodded in acknowledgement, nudging the door open. He didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t to be attacked immediately. The moment he saw a humanoid shape lunging out of the darkness with a furious screech, he whirled around and stabbed a stake through the figure’s heart, their own momentum pushing it through. And if that had been a vampire, then maybe the job would have ended much sooner. But it wasn’t, and the zombie, more confused and pissed off than actually hurt, snapped at Gordon’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon flinched back just barely enough to avoid a bite, and down just barely enough to avoid the blast of white-hot flame that Bubby had flung at the zombie. That seemed to do the trick where a stake hadn’t. Gordon watched the burning zombie slump onto the ground. “...Why is there a zombie in a vampire’s lair?” He questioned, as Coomer walked over to punch the corpse for good measure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you. Darnold fucked up. There’s a lot of these.” Benrey said. He sat down by the zombie, poking it. “Think there’s any blood left in here?” Benrey asked, not waiting for an answer before he started biting the zombie. Gordon’s recollection of the next few minutes was… very fuzzy, but he remembered pinning Benrey down, he remembered yelling, he remembered fumbling for another stake. “Hey, can you stop? Can you stop please?” Benrey said calmly, eyes flashing blue, and Gordon paused. Benrey’s eyes started pulsing green, and Gordon felt himself going limp and numb, calm washing over him. He felt Benrey slide out from under him, keeping eye contact until he was standing several feet away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey blinked. Gordon snapped out of it, frowning in confusion. “What… what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Green means he’s not mean!” Tommy said gently, helping Gordon to his feet. “You scared him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Scary, uh. Scary Gordon Meanman. Why’d you yell at your good friend Benrey?” Benrey whined, pouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not my friend. You’re a…” Gordon paused, the words slipping from his brain before they could be sent to his tongue. “You’re not my friend.” He finished instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rude.” Benrey scoffed. He walked inside the castle, glancing back at the others. “You coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon glanced down at his stakes, the sharp pieces of wood suddenly seeming a lot less useful. He could turn those into a better weapon somehow, right? He’d have to. He nodded silently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing ventured, nothing gained!” Coomer exclaimed, hands balling into fists as he ran in after Benrey. Bubby’s hands lit on fire as he followed. Tommy started walking in as well, giving Gordon a worried glance. Gordon took a deep breath, and stepped into the castle. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Benrey Crushed Under A Rock!!! Benrey Die!!!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick heads up, the end of the chapter contains what I guess I'd call temporary character death? Benrey's very hard to kill, but Gordon doesn't know that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gordon was absolutely certain that whoever had built this castle had a personal vendetta against reasonable, navigable living spaces. He and the team had been exploring the castle for a couple of hours now, and they’d come across many dead ends, several completely empty storage rooms, and what Gordon considered an unnecessary amount of deadly pits. All with zombies scattered about. So far, the zombies hadn’t proved much of an obstacle; fire was a quick and easy way to deal with them, and they had that in abundance thanks to Bubby. But all the same, Gordon couldn’t help but feel completely out of his element. He made the mistake of bringing up that concern, as he carefully jumped over a set of crates dangling over a pit (who put those there?).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re in, wrong genre. Big, big scary vampire hunter doesn’t like zombies. Got the wrong equipment, you need to grind out the uh, the good weapon. For better AOE damage.” Benrey said, as if that all made perfect sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have something other than a few stakes, but for some shocking reason I thought that was all I needed to hunt a vampire!” Gordon hissed, stumbling as he barely landed the jump onto stable ground. “But no, instead I’m stuck in a situation </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundreds of miles out from my comfort zone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because why, Darnold fucked up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey recoiled. “Hey, no, why would you say that? That’s mean. That’s so mean. Darnold, Darnold is cool, he’s the smartest and nicest person I know. Why would you say that about him, he only filled the castle with zombies by </span>
  <em>
    <span>accident</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s- you literally said- ugh. It’s fine, I’m not going to argue with you. I’ll be nice to Darnold when we find him, okay?” Gordon sighed as they walked down a corridor lined with crates. “I just want something I can hit a zombie with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s eyes brightened. “Oh! I can fix that, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy walked over to a crate, tearing off a plank with his bare hands. “Can- can I just see a couple of your stakes, please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon handed Tommy a few stakes, in shock. “How did… you just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey snorted. “Everyone can do that. Lame, weak little baby Feetman. Got, uh, tiny lil arms, can’t destroy shit.” As if to demonstrate, Benrey also ripped a plank of wood off the same crate. “See? See what you can do if you just, uh, believe in yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do this as well!” Coomer said happily, beginning to tear the crate apart, ripping off planks like they were no stronger than pieces of paper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is something not right about all of you.” Gordon mumbled, as Benrey and Coomer started to compete to see who could completely dismantle a crate faster (with Bubby cheating on Coomer’s behalf, occasionally setting a box on fire). Tommy silently handed Gordon the plank of wood, now with stakes arranged in a line at the top to make a makeshift axe. It was odd; Gordon couldn’t see how the stakes had been attached. It was like the pieces of wood had just grown into each other. He swung it experimentally. “Thank you, Tommy. I really appreciate that. …I’ve got a couple more stakes, can you make more…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shook his head. “I-I could, but it’s… it’s permanent, and I don’t want to ruin any of your stakes if I don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would make this the only real weapon we have.” Gordon said, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-Well, Bubby has fire. Coomer’s very, very strong, and Benrey is… Benrey. And, and I don’t need a weapon! Because… the zombies can’t hurt me, I’m too smart.” Tommy said, way too confidently. Gordon blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy. Buddy. That’s not how that works. I need you to preserve yourself, okay? The zombies don’t care how smart you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t get close enough to bite.” Tommy promised, smiling, before running ahead of the rest of the group. Gordon’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! That’s dangerous, please stay with the group!” Gordon yelled, chasing after Tommy. He turned the corner, and saw Tommy standing in a room packed with zombies. He screamed, but when he blinked the room was empty except for Tommy, standing there completely unharmed and unphased. Tommy turned, waving at him. Gordon stared for a long moment. “...I think we should all sit down. Take a break. Talk about our lives.” He said as the others entered the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hardly waited to hear any sounds of agreement before he sat down, leaning against the wall. He was quiet for a moment as the others settled down, just catching his breath and feeling his heartbeat slow down for the first time since he got here. “So. Anybody here got any family?” He said, grasping at the first topic he could think of that wasn’t about the current situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring Bubby’s noncommittal shrug and Benrey’s snort of laughter, Coomer spoke up. “I had a wife, but they took her in the divorce!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They… took your wife in the divorce?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Not before she tried to tear my throat out though!” Coomer said, leaning his head back to show the jagged scar running along it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She- holy shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apart from that, it was all quite amicable! We still go hunting together sometimes!” Coomer said cheerfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a second to try and fail to process that. “...Okay. Tommy, what about you? You said you live alone? And you have a dog?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy smiled. “Yeah! His name is Sunkist! A-And he’s big, and really sweet, and I’ve had him since he was a puppy, and his howling foretells death!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...That’s nice, Tommy.” Gordon said. This was not helping to calm him down. He stood up. “Well! That was close enough to a break that I think we should get moving again! Please, nobody tell me any more horrifying things!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wait. I want to hear about you.” Benrey said, sounding completely uninterested. Gordon turned to glare at him, still walking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a son. He lives with my ex. I don’t have custody because my job consists of running nonstop around the country between places that are going to get me killed! That’s all </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to know about me and my life!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon could barely hear Benrey’s “Wow that’s sucks.” as he stormed away. He needed to keep a level head. He needed to stay calm, he needed to focus, and he didn’t need to think about why this castle had giant freezer rooms that you could apparently just wander into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped that was something to do with the “instability in time and space” Coomer had mentioned. He couldn’t honestly think of a single reasonable explanation for why anybody would build a place like this. Normal castles didn’t need freezer rooms (with splattered bloodstains Gordon tried very hard not to look at), or giant vents to crawl through, or elevator shafts that Gordon could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely </span>
  </em>
  <span>get down without breaking anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least that had gotten them all deeper down into the castle; the hallways they were walking now were stone and damp, their footsteps echoing in the cramped space. This was the kind of place where vampires usually put their coffins and stuff, right? The heavy metal doors certainly seemed like a clue that this place was important, perfectly situated to block off or trap intruders- Tommy ran up to the lever next to a door, and pulled it before slipping through as alarms started to blare. “TOMMY!” Gordon screamed, as the metal door slid down, rusty metal screeching as it lowered in stuttering starts and stops. Gordon ran through the door, gesturing frantically for the others to follow. “Come on! Come on!” He shouted as Coomer ran in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll hold it up.” Benrey said with a grin, standing right below the lowering door. As Bubby darted over the threshold, Benrey tried to follow, but… Gordon couldn’t see what exactly happened, it was so dark and so fast, but he saw Benrey’s eyes widen in surprise as he slammed into the ground, as if pulled down. The door slipped, slamming down suddenly. Everyone stared for a long, horrified moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “It’s very sad, but it had to happen, Gordon. Let’s keep moving.” Coomer said uneasily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Had to happen, huh?” Gordon mumbled. He stood there, staring at the unmoving Benrey as the others started to continue down the hallway. “...Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy paused. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you pull the lever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was quiet for a long, long moment. “Instinct. I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just died. A man just died, Tommy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...He’ll get better.” Gordon didn’t respond to that. He just went quiet, letting Tommy gently push him around the corner, out of sight and earshot of Benrey slowly trying to get up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy whyyyyyy?” Benrey whined, futilely trying to worm the lower half of his body out from under the metal door. He wasn’t visibly injured or in pain, but he was certainly irritated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy sighed, crouching down next to Benrey. “I’m sorry! B-But my job is to protect Mr. Freeman!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BBBBB. Trapping such a great cool for stupid Feetman. Tommy cringe moments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine, Benrey, I promise! If I wanted to kill you, I could have anytime! Everybody’s going to make it out of here alive.” Tommy smiled reassuringly, before getting back up and running off to rejoin the team. Benrey huffed, waiting until Tommy’s footsteps were so distant as to be inaudible; hopefully distant enough that Tommy couldn’t hear the pop of air as it rushed to fill an empty space, or the clang of a metal door no longer blocked by Benrey’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small bat lay in front of the door, squeaking triumphantly. The bat slowly climbed the rough stone walls, before letting go and flying after the team of vampire hunters.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Gordos Feetman Sleepy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>So apparently, the deep, dark catacombs </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>contain a vampire’s coffin. Before Gordon knew it, they were moving upwards again out of the catacombs and into the main body of the castle again. Okay! Nothing useful down there </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>someone died! Perfect! Gordon’s fine with this! (He's not fine. He's very much not fine but there's nothing he can do and so he'll say something sarcastic and move on.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have to keep moving anyway. He can’t shake the sinking feeling that they’re getting nowhere, but what else were they going to do? The only reassurance was that they hadn’t come across any part of the castle they’d seen before; they’re not running in circles. At some point, they have to reach somewhere important, right? And then they can just retrace their steps back out. Easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his dismay, he’s getting tired. It’s been a long, long day. He can’t hope to keep up this pace long enough to find the vampire, and he doesn’t know what condition he’ll be in if he has to stay awake several more hours and fight. He’s trying not to let it show, but he doesn’t think he’s fooling anyone. And as they fight their way through the castle, he’s seeing signs of the others starting to slow down; Bubby’s flames are dimmer, Coomer’s punches are slower (still enough to take a zombie’s head off, surprisingly), and Tommy’s… well, Gordon hasn’t actually seen how Tommy’s getting rid of the zombies (he never seems to do it while Gordon is looking) but he’s pretty sure Tommy’s reactions are slower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t go on like this. But stopping to rest could slide so easily until stopping to sleep, and they can’t sleep here. Forget the vampire, there’s zombies everywhere, and if they’re attacked it may be too late by the time everyone wakes up. The thought of waking to see his team being devoured alive is enough to keep Gordon moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were hiding out in a corner at the moment, just long enough to collect themselves after the last fight. It had been a messy one, and Gordon was busying himself by wiping off the blood that had splattered onto Tommy’s face, knowing but not caring that Tommy could feel how shaky his hands were. “Mr. Freeman, don’t you think we should take a break?” Tommy asked, worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, we can wait. We’ve got to find somewhere… somewhere safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t know, we’ll know it when we see it.” Gordon said vaguely, putting away the cloth he was using to clean off the blood. He avoiding eye contact, turning away and walking further into the castle, trying to hide a tired stumble.</span>
</p><p><span>“</span>Sleep<span> is a naturally recurring state of mind and body, characterized by altered </span><span>consciousness</span><span>, relatively inhibited sensory activity, reduced muscle activity and inhibition of nearly all </span><span>voluntary muscles</span><span> during </span><span>rapid eye movement</span><span> (REM) sleep,</span><span>[1]</span><span> and reduced interactions with surroundings.</span><span>[2]</span><span> It is distinguished from </span><span>wakefulness</span><span> by a decreased ability to react to </span><span>stimuli</span><span>, but more reactive than a </span><span>coma</span><span> or </span><span>disorders of consciousness</span><span>, with sleep displaying very different and active brain patterns.” Coomer said with a longing sigh.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Same here. I’m burning out.” Bubby snapped. “I didn’t sign up for this, Gordon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did. You literally did.” Gordon groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby hissed like a boiling kettle. “You know what I mean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy forced a smile, stepping in between Gordon and Bubby. “We-we’re going to be fine! It can’t be that much further until we find somewhere safe!” He said, hoping desperately it was true. There likely wasn’t anywhere in this castle that was safe, and he knew it; they wouldn’t rest until one of them just dropped from exhaustion, and then he’d have to make do with protecting wherever that happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, not making eye contact. “Yeah, soon. ...Another zombie, anybody got a ranged weapon they didn’t tell me about…?” He gestured tiredly to a zombie wearing a beret, standing on a balcony above them. As soon as he said that, the zombie bolted, darting into another passageway. That wasn’t really normal zombie behavior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon barely thought about it before giving chase. A zombie that can choose to run away is a zombie that can think; maybe one that can communicate, give them any information about what’s going on here. He charged forward, seeing the zombie slide down from a passageway that spiraled up to the balcony. Gordon could hear footsteps behind him, the others giving chase as well. “Stop! Stop!” Gordon yelled, knowing it was doing nothing as the zombie only sped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before long, he had the zombie pinned against a window, the team fanned out to surround the now very nervous looking undead. Gordon took a deep breath. “What is going on here? Where did you come from, what do you want, and why-” Bubby threw a fireball. Gordon screamed, shielding his face from the blast. “WHAT!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got him!” Bubby said excitedly. The window had been blasted apart (it was pitch black outside, what time was it?), though there didn’t seem to be any bits of zombie splattered around the broken glass. No sign of the zombie at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon groaned, sitting down. “Why… why did you do that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby raised an eyebrow. “We were killing all the others!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but he was running! He must be, I don’t know, fresh or something, I don’t know shit about zombies! The point is, he was thinking! He might have been able to communicate, he might have been able to tell us what the hell is happening!” Gordon screamed. Everybody was silent for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon glared at Bubby for a few more seconds, before turning and storming away. It was very quiet and awkward for an unbearable length of time. There weren’t even many zombies to interrupt the painful monotony. Finally, Gordon sighed. “I’m sorry for snapping, I just… I want answers. I didn’t know it was going to be like this when I took the job, and... and I’m not prepared at all for this. I don’t know if I’m going to make it out alive, if I can’t see what’s coming next until it punches me in the face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Apology accepted.” Bubby muttered. They all walked for a while longer, the silence now slightly less awkward and slightly more thinking about how they were all going to die. “Oh, hey, I found an exit!” Bubby said after a few minutes, pointing to an elevator. Next to it was a sign hung on the wall, with “remember this one goes outside” scribbled on it; a clue that the castle’s architecture made no goddamn sense even before it was consumed by some reality-warping disaster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everybody piled in, relieved. They sat down, Coomer pressing the button. “It’ll be nice to get some fresh air. Clear our heads.” Gordon mumbled, yawning, as the elevator started to move. The others nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. The elevator dinged, and the door slid open to reveal a courtyard full of zombies. “...Let’s go back.” Gordon whispered, staring out. He heard a loud smashing noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad news, Gordon! The button’s jammed!” Coomer said, standing next to a control panel with a sparking, fist-shaped hole in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-There’s a door back into the castle over there.” Tommy whispered, pointing across the courtyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a deep breath. “Think we should go for it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t think we have any other choice…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Count of three, we make a break for it. Don’t stop, clear a path as we go. One… two… three!” They all sprinted out, barreling towards the door. A wave of fire smashed through the zombies directly in front, and Gordon flailed his axe frantically to keep back the zombies that hadn’t been burnt up, narrating his experience aloud as he went. “ZOMBIES ZOMBIES ZOMBIES THERE’S A BAT!? ZOMBIES ZOMBIES ZOMBIES!” </span>
</p><p><span>“A </span>zombie<span> (</span><span>Haitian French</span><span>: </span><em><span>zombi</span></em><span>, </span><span>Haitian Creole</span><span>: </span><em><span>zonbi</span></em><span>) is an </span><span>undead</span> <span>corporeal</span> <span>revenant</span><span> created through the reanimation of a </span><span>corpse</span><span>.” Coomer added happily, punching the head off of a zombie while Gordon screamed. </span></p><p>
  <span>Gordon dove for the door, slamming it open and frantically waving his team inside. “GO! GO GO GO GO GO!” He whirled inside and shut the door the second everyone was in, heart pounding. He held it for a moment, unsure if the zombies knew how to open doors. The doorknob didn’t move, and the thick wood of the door itself didn’t look easy to break through. They were safe for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We made it black into Back Mesa!” Coomer declared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon snorted. “Who named it that, the castle’s in a forest…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shrugged. “The ground it’s on is elevated, and it’s flat! It’s on a mesa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t a mesa by definition surrounded by plains?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer began reciting the wikipedia article as Tommy thought. “Yeah. Maybe… I think it’s a butte? Or a table?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Gordon would rather continue to debate over this than continue through the castle. He should keep going, should push through his exhaustion, but… “I think we really do need to take a break.” Gordon confessed. “Not here though. Put some distance between us and the zombie courtyard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. “Maybe through these vents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” Gordon said, pulling himself into the air vent. Just a couple minutes crawling through this, then maybe he could find somewhere safe to sleep. The air vents were cramped (though admittedly much larger than air vents needed to be), so by the time he heard noises up ahead, he couldn’t turn around and push everyone back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He focused, staring at the small shape up ahead. He frowned, watching it flutter around, occasionally banging into the sides of the vent. “...That’s a bat? Did it get stuck or something?” Gordon said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bat started squeaking. Tommy squinted, getting a little closer as he stared at the bat. “I think… I think… green, not mean?” When Gordon looked closely too, he could sort of see little flashes of green light. The squeaking began to steadily increase in volume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can barely see! Bats don’t, they don’t have very big eyes, Mr. Freeman! I’m trying to read the color the best I can, but I don’t think that-” The squeaking had grown too loud for Gordon to hear Tommy speak. How the hell could a little bat like that make so much noise? Gordon grit his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s it!” Gordon snapped. He charged (the best he could on his hands and knees), swatting the bat away as he scrambled through the tunnel. The bat fluttered around his head, still screeching, but Gordon didn’t slow down, determined to make it through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blinded by panic (and by the bat in his face), Gordon didn’t realize he’d reached the end of the vent until he fell out. He lay there, sprawled out on the floor, heaving for breath. The bat fluttered above him before dropping out of the air, landing square on his face. Gordon was too exhausted to try and remove it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before Tommy caught up, pulling the bat gently off of Gordon’s face as Coomer and Bubby emerged from the vent. Gordon sat up, blinking sleepily as he looked around the room. Fairly large, but small and empty enough that he could see all of it at once. One exit, not counting the vent. The ground was as hard as everywhere else, but it felt soft enough right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ve had enough. Sleeping now.” Gordon said, promptly falling unconscious. It didn’t take long for Bubby to follow, lying down and going still, the constant light illuminating his glasses dimming. Coomer curled up next to him, knowing that Bubby would radiate more than enough heat to counteract the chill of the castle at night (and knowing that there was a non-zero chance Bubby would spontaneously burst into flames, but unfazed by that risk).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy stayed awake longest, holding the bat he knew perfectly well was Benrey. “Promise you won’t eat anybody?” No response. Tommy sighed, walking over to the room’s exit and tossing Benrey outside. “Okay. Goodnight.” Tommy mumbled, an impenetrable wall of vines springing up in the doorway. He wasn’t supposed to let anybody know he could do that; he’d just have to wake up first and take it down before anybody noticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yawned. He hadn’t realized that protecting Gordon would be so hard. He doesn’t think his dad should have sent him to do this, but… well, he wasn’t planning on backing out. He’s keeping Gordon alive. And not just Gordon; he doesn’t want to see any of these people die. He’ll get them all out safe if it kills him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. oohhhhhh let it RIP</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A good night's sleep did a lot for the team. Gordon woke much more gradually than he fell asleep, giving Tommy time to dismantle the wall of plants before Gordon noticed. In fact, Gordon was the last one up and moving; Bubby was already flicking his fire on and off, testing how hot he could make it burn, while Coomer was running laps around the room and shadowboxing. Benrey had left, which only concerned Tommy a little; he’d be fine. And Tommy still hadn’t figured out yet how he was going to keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gordon and Benrey alive, so… keeping them apart for now was probably for the best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was taking the loss of Benrey fairly well; he never liked to see a teammate lost (even if Benrey wasn’t technically part of his team) but he knew he had to keep going. There would be time to mourn later, but for now, all that mattered was finding and killing the vampire so they could all go home. He managed to avoid thinking about Benrey as he and his team traversed the castle, focusing on making it through without getting torn to bits by zombies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it came as quite a shock when he found Benrey on a slowly lowering elevator. Gordon stood there, mouth agape with surprise and confusion, as Benrey descended at a snail’s pace. “...Hey!” Gordon said eventually, not knowing what the hell else to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Can I have your passport now?” Benrey responded casually, standing right in the elevator doorway as it came to a halt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My passport… you’re back on the passport thing again!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- yeah. I need it. I got all the others, I need to, uh, 100% my run, get all the collectibles-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I THOUGHT YOU DIED!” Gordon screamed, in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I got better though.” Benrey said with a shrug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stared. “Everyone get in the elevator.” He mumbled, pushing past Benrey and sitting down in the elevator, head in his hands. Uneasily, everyone got in as the elevator began to descend again. When Gordon wasn’t looking, Tommy pulled Benrey to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You-you should be nicer to Mr. Freeman! He was really upset about losing you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged. “Yeah but I’m fine. Going to eat him anyways.” He added, grinning and flashing his fangs. He barely bothered to lower his voice, knowing that Gordon’s mind would slide over it without registering what Benrey was. He doubted the hypnotism would be wearing off anytime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned. “I really can kill you for good.” He said, the misery in his voice demolishing any threat in the statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Bet your dad told you not to, to let Feetman do it. Besides, you don’t wanna.” Benrey said smugly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded, silently conceding that point. “...Do you really, really want to eat Gordon?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey went quiet for a moment, contemplating, before grinning again. “Not all the blood. He’s a big cool. Don’t want to mess up and have to kill a friend again, that’s, that’s always sucks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy sighed in relief. “So we just have to convince him that he doesn’t need to kill you, and everybody’s got a happy ending!” Benrey nodded, avoiding eye contact. That wasn’t happening. Benrey had his own plans. Tommy couldn’t lie (or at least, struggled with stretching the truth too far) and it felt like cheating to lie to his face. So Benrey just mumbled something vaguely affirmative and shut up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey tried to be a little nice. Travelling through all the sludge, and trains, and the newly-dubbed Black Mesa Zombie Dragon (he </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>that dragon, why’d the zombies have to bite it and ruin everything) with the minimum of bugging Gordon. Only a little teasing, only a bit of sarcasm, just a smidge of chewing on dead guys within Gordon’s line of sight. It was going fine, until… until Benrey saw a familiar face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No, that can’t be him, he buried Forzen himself. And he had still been getting used to the whole vampire strength thing, so he dug a hole a lot deeper than he needed to. Sure, it had been quite a while since Benrey had to run away as his house filled up with zombies, but Forzen couldn’t have dug himself up in that time, right? ...Who was he kidding, this was Forzen and he totally would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped away while the others weren’t looking. He’d lost track of which way Forzen had gone, but he had to be somewhere nearby, right? “Pspspspsp. We got, uhhhh beyblades. And Irate Gamer.” Where was he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey could hear yelling somewhere in the distance. And then the sound of footsteps pounding fast against the stone floor. And then he saw Forzen turn the corner at the end of the hallway, panting for breath he didn’t need and eyes wide with panic. Benrey grinned, opening his arms for a hug. “FORZEN- oh rude.” Benrey said as Forzen pulled out a gun (where did Forzen get a gun?) and pointed it at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey blinked. A gun wouldn’t do much to him, but after all, he had been human and mortal at one point and the idea of being shot was still very unpleasant. “Can you put that away? Put it away please?” Forzen looked like he wanted to respond, but was cut off as the vampire hunting team rounded the corner. Forzen grabbed Benrey’s shoulder, starting to back away from the hunters and dragging the vampire with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay there.” Forzen growled at the hunters, jabbing his gun in Benrey’s direction. He was holding it by the barrel. Benrey’s not entirely sure that Forzen had ever held a gun in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon frowned, eyes flicking over to Benrey. “Benrey? Benrey, what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“STAY THERE.” Forzen yelled, moving the gun away from Benrey for a moment to shake it vigorously at the now on-fire Bubby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon held his hands up. “He told us to stay back, Bubby, stay back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not afraid of you!” Bubby sneered. Forzen turned, tried to shoot Benrey, realized he had to put a finger on the trigger first, then shot Benrey. Seeing that Forzen was clearly having a pretty rough day, Benrey flopped to the ground and pretended to be dead, out of politeness. “I’m afraid of you!” Bubby amended, only somewhat sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen glared. “Did you guys know who that was?” He asked, voice bitter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon glared right back. “You are outnumbered. Put the gun down. And don’t try to run, or I’ll kill you. You see we have Bubby, right? The guy currently on fire? You see what kind of situation you’re in?” Forzen did. He nodded, resisting the urge to just take off and run as the hunters approached. “So. What’s your name?” Gordon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a second to remember. “...Forzen.” Which probably wasn’t good for him to forget, but he had bigger problems than working out what exactly being turned into a zombie was doing to his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Forzen. So, you’re going to answer some questions for us. We know that this whole zombie thing is because of something Darnold did. So who is Darnold exactly? Is he a vampire? Is he in charge of this place? And where is he? And how many zombies are there- actually, just tell us how many zombies there are like you, still talking and not trying to eat us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen blinked, rotting brain making a valiant effort to recall any information that would make the guy with a giant makeshift axe let him go. His memories were so blurry, slipping through his fingers and leaving him with bits he had to string together into something coherent. Okay. Uh. He can do this. Let's see, let's see, he doesn't remember any other zombies that wanted to talk with him... “I’m- I’ve always been the only one on team… team’s nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Team nice, huh? Okay. Let’s try another question; do you remember how you came back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A jolt out of nowhere, being ripped from his rest without warning and crammed into a body not meant to hold life, the taste of rot in his mouth and his own screams echoing in his head as he frantically clawed at the dirt around him- “I just wanted to graduate.” Forzen said with a shrug, pushing the memory of his revival into a nice little box labelled things-to-never-think-about-again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused. “...What do you mean, graduate-” Forzen had been keeping one eye on Bubby, watching the fire. Bubby had sat down, and while still on fire, the flame had dimmed. More of a pilot light than a weapon, and when Forzen ran Bubby didn’t have time to turn up the heat before Forzen had already run out of the hallway, sprinting for a hiding place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flames scorched the wall too late, and the hunters gave chase. Coomer sprinted ahead of the rest of them, gaining rapidly on Forzen. “Coomer! Coomer! Hold the fuck up!” Gordon shouted, falling behind. Forzen ran up a set of stairs, not realizing that Coomer had overtaken him until a punch sent him sprawling onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon caught up, gasping for breath. Coomer was hunched over Forzen, panting, fists balled tight. His head snapped up towards Gordon. Instinctively, Gordon took a few steps back, struggling against the sudden urge to run. “Kill.” Coomer growled, something furious and vicious glinting in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great job, Coomer!” Bubby said happily, not seeming freaked out in the slightest (was this… normal for Coomer then?). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a deep breath, sitting down and fighting every instinct that told him to flee before this old man tore him apart like a rabid animal. “You have a fucking menacing aura about you.” Gordon said warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kill.” Coomer said in response, unblinking. Gordon let out a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… just not going to deal with that.” He said, turning his attention to Forzen. “Look, man. We’ve got some loose trigger fingers, and some pretty heavy weaponry. We’ve got Coomer and Bubby here, they’re pretty old but they can take you out no problem, and we’ve got Tommy, who’s younger… how old are you again, Tommy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thirty-six!” Tommy said, muttering “...hundred.” under his breath, just a bit too quiet for Gordon to hear clearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, right. And I have this axe, which is a couple hours old but still going to kick your ass if you don’t talk.” But Forzen had ceased to pay attention. He’d turned to Tommy, looking for help from the least threatening member of the team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hell yeah! You ever… do… you every, uhh… do you want a beyblade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy stared for a long moment, before smiling. “...Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It-It’s downstairs, let me go get it.” Forzen said, proud of this flawless escape plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon scowled. “No, no, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should let him get the beyblade!” Coomer declared, coming out of kill mode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LET IT RIP, ultimate dragoon.” Forzen said, eyes sparkling with excitement as he started to genuinely get excited thinking about beyblades. Tommy gave Gordon a look, practically begging him to just humor Forzen for a little bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fall for it.” Gordon said, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LET IT RIP.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fall for it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, what should I do!?” Tommy said, struggling to look conflicted and not like he was going to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fall for it!” Gordon repeated, failing to not laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunn, dunn, beyblade…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, follow your heart.” Coomer declared solemnly, poker face impeccable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is his strategy, this is his strategy. Don’t follow him, we need to interrogate him.” Gordon said, trying to inject a bit more seriousness back into the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s infiltrating my mind!” Tommy wailed, having no interest in returning to the interrogation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It has THREE bit-beasts in it.” Forzen purred, eyes full of excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused. He didn’t know a lot about beyblades, but he’s pretty sure that wasn’t right. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a lot of bit-beasts, Gordon.” Coomer said contemplatively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s more than one or two.” Forzen confirmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy. A beyblade, or crucial information.” Gordon said, starting to get a little bit tired of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, the beyblade inside has ALL the answers.” Forzen said confidently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I think we should take him hostage, and take him with us, because he might be telling the truth.” Tommy said, voice full of hope and verging on pleading to keep Forzen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if he leads us to a room full of zombies or something?” Gordon’s patience was starting to wear a little bit thin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can recognize beyblades when I see them.” Tommy said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, lifting his axe and holding it above Forzen’s head. “Give us one piece of information that’ll get us out of here faster, and I won’t bring this down on your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen went quiet for a moment. “Benrey knows the exit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey knows the exit? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed </span>
  </em>
  <span>Benrey! What do you know about Benrey, why do you even know his name? Why do you know who Benrey is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were- we were best friends. We… </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>best friends.” Forzen said with a scowl, rubbing absently at his neck. Silently, Gordon brought the axe down. It didn’t dig in as deep as he thought it would. “Yeah, ouch.” Forzen said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. “I give up. ...Were you lying about the beyblade?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, not at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god. You’re going to get up, and you’re going to walk to the beyblade.” Gordon said, pulling his axe back out of Forzen’s head. “Get up.” Silently, Forzen stood. “Walk, don’t run.” Gordon warning, watching Forzen walk away. And then he watched Forzen walk into a pit at the other end of the room. Everyone stared, straining to make out the shape of the zombie at the bottom of the dark pit. “...Don’t follow him.” Gordon concluded. “Don’t follow him… Tommy? TOMMY!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had jumped down, hurtling into the darkness. He didn’t want Gordon to see, so he waited until he was a good distance down before letting his wings unfurl. Two shimmering golden butterfly wings burst from his back, fluttering gently to soften his landing. “Yeah, Tommy, over here let’s go.” Forzen said happily, unphased. The bottom and sides of the pit were packed earth rather than stone, and there was a makeshift tunnel dug out into the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned. “Forzen? Do you want to leave Black Mesa?” The zombie paused for a moment, then nodded. Tommy gave him a thumbs up, and started to concentrate. He wasn’t supposed to do this; his dad had warned him it was for emergencies, if things went terribly wrong and he needed to get out of Black Mesa in a hurry. It’d be a while before he could do it again, and it would leave him weakened and vulnerable for a day or so. But things had been going surprisingly well so far; what harm could there be in letting poor Forzen out of the castle?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hole appeared in the wall, the ancient stone forcing itself out of place, creaking and rumbling with the effort. Forzen stared in shock for a moment. “Go on.” Tommy said quietly, straining with the effort of keeping it open. “You can leave!” Forzen blinked, digging in his pockets and turning out a rusty, chipped old beyblade. He silently handed it to Tommy, before running through the wall. Tommy smiled, letting the hole collapse as soon as Forzen was safely through. Putting the beyblade in his pocket, Tommy hid his wings again and turned back to the wall. Vines creeped up, forming themselves into a ladder, but they moved sluggishly, and the ladder felt more than a little unstable as Tommy climbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still, he made it up safe. “Oh, you’re back.” Gordon said in relief, seeing Tommy unharmed. “Did you get the beyblade?” He added, a joking afterthought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… he ran off.” Tommy said, a little sadly. He held the beyblade in his pocket, following the others as they continued deeper into the castle.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. An egg? In these trying times?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Logically, watching Benrey die twice should be more traumatic than watching him die once. But for some reason, that didn’t seem to click in Gordon’s head. Some part of his brain had watched Benrey get shot, decided he would be fine, and moved on. Of course Gordon was upset, but his gut instinct refused to believe that Benrey’s death would stick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of his team went through variations on the same thought process (with differing certainty as to the actual odds of Benrey’s survival), and if anybody felt at all inclined to discuss what the hell had just happened, they were distracted by the train. Gordon had no idea why the hell anyone would put a </span>
  <em>
    <span>train </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>castle</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he guesses this is just happening now? He can’t think of a single part of this job that had gone the way he thought it would, so… yeah, train ride in a castle, why not. Quicker than running around everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Quicker than running around everywhere in theory. In practice, with all the slowing down then speeding up and stopping and going backwards, it just made Gordon feel like puking. He doesn’t think that any of them have a firm understanding of the train controls. So by the time they got off the train, up an elevator, and around the corner to a door leaving the castle, Gordon was not in a good mood. Which didn’t improve any when he saw the zombies standing around in the bottom of a ditch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon pounced with a scream, letting out his frustration with this whole experience by just flailing around his makeshift axe until he felt it slam into meat. It was sloppy, unskillful, painful to watch but viscerally satisfying to do. He just needed to get it out of his system. And admittedly, he did feel a little better once he was done, staring at the pile of smashed zombie at the bottom of the ditch. Turns out that killing zombies does wonders for Gordon’s blood pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you guys made it out, that’s cool.” Aaaaaaand back up the pressure goes. “I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me where the exit was.” Benrey commented. He was sitting on the side of the ditch, legs hanging over the edge and swinging idly. There was a tear in his puffy vest where he had been shot, fluffy filling sticking out, but he didn’t seem hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s always good to see a friendly face in these trying times!” Coomer said. His relief was genuine, smile wide as he skipped right over the problem of how Benrey was alive and uninjured. It was almost enough to make Gordon dismiss the issue as well. Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey sighed, leaning back. Gordon narrowed his eyes, staring at Benrey and trying to focus. His mind just glossed over certain details and thoughts about Benrey, and he was struggling to scramble back and pin down those thoughts. Something about his skin, or his teeth, or the bullet that Gordon had watched tear through Benrey and not leave a mark larger than a torn vest. It gave him a headache that pounded like it was a warning. “You know, it was so quiet before you guys came here.” Benrey huffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… hey… mind if I ask you something?” Gordon asked, voice unsteady but gaining confidence with each word. “Why were you all buddy-buddy with those zombies? They were just standing there, staring at you. Can you explain what was going on here, this scene before we walked in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey blinked. “They weren't hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a deep breath, pointing at the bite mark on his sleeve for emphasis (he hadn’t noticed the teeth sinking in; he was glad now his vampire-hunting outfit was long-sleeved and made of tough leather). “They. Are trying. To kill us. I don’t know why they weren’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like you tried to kill them. And it worked.” Benrey interrupted, pointing at the pile of zombie on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a moment to collect himself. “I- we- I’m gonna consult the group. Stay right there-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re the bad guy, I think you’re mean.” Benrey said. Gordon swung the blunt side of the axe at Benrey’s head. It connected, and hard, but Benrey didn’t react for a few seconds, when it seemed to occur to him that he should at least sound upset. “Nnnnmnannmmna nnnannannaa.” Benrey mocked, hand snapping open and closed like a sock puppet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon scowled, turning around to see Coomer digging an egg out of their supply bags (how had the eggs not cracked by now, after all they’ve been through?) and cracking it into Bubby’s hands. It was done so matter-of-factly that it hardly registered as unusual (clearly, they’ve done this before), though Gordon couldn’t tell why the hell Coomer had done that until the egg started to sizzle. “Would you care for an egg?” Bubby asked, noticing Gordon watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Sure.” He could check “eat an egg cooked in the hands of a weird old man with fire powers” off his bucket list, though first he’d have to put that on the list in the first place. He held out his hands. “Just- just stick it in here. Don’t take the egg.” Gordon warned as Benrey approached curiously. “Oh you took the egg.” Gordon hissed quietly as Benrey snatched the egg up as Bubby tried to dump it in Gordon’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He took the egg!” Bubby said in agreement, watching Benrey slurp (why. why. why would he eat an egg like that) down his ill-gotten goods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-Bro, that was my egg!” Gordon shouted, a bit in shock, as he stared at Benrey. Tommy stared too, silent but concerned. Solid food was really not good for vampires. Benrey shrugged when he noticed Tommy’s expression (it was funny, who cares if it would make him sick later).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I have another.” Bubby said, digging around the bag for another egg (were they just loose in there?). Before long, he had another egg ready. “Gordon! Finders-keepers, hurry up!” He said, grinning. In the few seconds Gordon took to wonder why he was smiling like that, the egg had slipped between Bubby’s fingers and splattered onto the dirt. “Woopsie-daisy!” Bubby said, barely holding back a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Lil butterfingers over here.” Benrey said, deadpan but starting to smile a bit too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, pushing Benrey away. “Please go sit over there. I’m going to talk to them. And you’re not involved.” Benrey rolled his eyes, but let Gordon push him, and let Gordon walk away with the rest of the team. They walked behind a tree nearby, far enough to be theoretically out of Benrey’s earshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is something… incredibly suspicious about Benrey and everything about him. Do you all agree? Do you get the same vibe that I do?” Gordon said, looking at his team. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Bubby said bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was staring at the ground, mouth moving silently, trying to work out what he could say. “Benrey is… he’s been around here for a long time, and he’s kind of lonely and excited to meet new people.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head. “That’s nice Tommy. I personally think that Benrey is… he’s a… a… he’s… he’s an issue that needs to be dealt with.” He said. He’d started that sentence without thinking of how it would end, and found himself with a word on the tip of his tongue that his brain refused to let him have. “How do you guys not get this? He was just standing there, completely untouched by the zombies that have been trying to eat us alive since we got here! And that’s not all. If I had a nickel for every time Benrey showed up perfectly fine after what should have been a gruesome death, I’d have two nickels! Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice! He’s… he’s just… he’s not right! There’s something wrong with him! I think I saw him chewing on a zombie, and his teeth… there’s something up with his teeth. I don’t know what it is, but there is!” Gordon was making no sense and he knew it. Talking about this was painful, his headache slamming through his skull stronger with every second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of his team exchanged worried glances. After a few seconds of silent deliberation, Tommy spoke up. “Mr. Freeman, you… you seem pretty upset. We’re all, we’re all very stressed out, and… and… and maybe it’ll help to not worry about Benrey for a bit? There’s lots of other things to talk about! And we can discuss Benrey… later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon rolled his eyes. “Sure. What are your guys’ greatest dreams?” He asked. His tone dripped with sarcasm (was nobody else taking this seriously?) but Bubby latched on like it was a sincere question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like to go to outer space! Meet the stars and leave this world behind!” Bubby said wistfully, gesturing up to the night sky. It was a clear night, lit by a nearly-full moon. This deep into the woods, and with the thick trees blocking out any light from the scattered villages, there was nothing but the castle’s spires to block the stars. Gordon doesn’t think he’s ever seen so many stars at once; maybe if the job ends up taking them to the tallest point of the castle, they’ll get a chance to properly stargaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer chimed in with his own dream. “Before my ex-wife tried to tear my throat out, I wanted to be a boxer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That shows. That shows, you’ve got the fucking guns to prove it.” Gordon muttered, eyeing Coomer’s knuckles smeared with blood and bits of zombie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer grinned. “Oh, the thrill of the ring, the cheer of the crowd, the blood rushing through my veins! ...Unfortunately, after the divorce, I was banned from participating in matches, due to my greatly increased strength.” He added sadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon tried to think of how many zombies had lost their heads before Coomer showed any sign of exhaustion or strain, and decided that it was probably for the best that Coomer wasn’t a boxer. Still. “I think you could have a shot if they found someone who could take more than one hit from you. And Bubby, you could be an astronaut too once we make it out of here. Tommy… you’ve been pretty quiet. You’re a young man, you have a lot to aspire to. What do you want to do with your life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy was quiet, silently scrambling for an answer that was honest and didn’t give away that he wasn’t human. “Umm… if this wasn’t happening, I would have gone home, and I would have eaten dinner, and then I would have given my dog, Sunkist, a walk.” He sat there, pleased with his answer, as Gordon stared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean like your dream for your life, like when you get home you’re going to eat dinner and feed Sunkist, but what about, like, ten years from now? What do you want to do with your life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten years was pretty much nothing to Tommy, so it didn’t really matter to him what he would be doing in ten years, but it’s not like he could just say that to Gordon. “I’d still be taking care of Sunkist, because he’s immortal.” He said with a shrug, brushing away the question. Gordon looked slightly alarmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who told you your dog’s immortal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made the dog! I made an immortal dog!” Tommy said proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stared for a long moment, not believing Tommy, but not having the energy to really question him on the matter. He sighed. He’d started this conversation in the hopes of working out what was wrong with Benrey, and now he was just questioning what was wrong with his entire team. When Gordon looked out from behind the tree, he could see Benrey standing a good distance away, staring at him. Gordon sighed, gesturing for Benrey to come closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the group has decided, you’re alright, you’re fine.” Gordon said when Benrey was close enough, despite the fact that the group hadn’t really come to much of a decision on that front. “I don’t know what you were doing with those zombies, but you… you’re fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged. “Nice. You sounded pretty stressed out, sure you don’t want to just. Stare deeply into my eyes for a while. Calm down a little bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon blinked, blushing. “...This isn’t really the time or place for that, I think. Maybe if we all make it out of Black Mesa alive.” He turned and started walking back towards the castle, not noticing Benrey’s annoyed scowl and glowing blue eyes. He could see the entrance to another part of the castle in the distance; maybe they’d have better luck searching there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Distracted as Gordon was by his persistent headache, it took him a moment to realize something important. “Why don’t we just try to make a hole in the fence? It’s all around the castle grounds, it would be nice if we could just get a way out if things go south. Bubby, do you think you can get a fire hot enough to melt the metal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby snorted, rolling his eyes dismissively. “Of course. But Gordon, have you realized that we’re in the middle of nowhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could walk!” Gordon insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could always try to clear the treetops.” Coomer suggested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna give it a shot?” Gordon asked. Coomer nodded, stretching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby sighed. “Look, Gordon, I’ll be real with you… it’s about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god.” Bubby muttered, watching as Coomer launched off into the sky. Everyone stared at the rapidly receding figure, soon completely out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he might have just lived your dream. I think he’s in space now.” Gordon said quietly, in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby nodded, squinting as he tried to catch a glimpse of Coomer’s ascent. “This has to be some of that space-time instability shit. That’s… at least twice his normal jumping height, if I’d have to guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon jumped as Coomer slammed back down into the ground in front of him, on his feet, throwing up a shower of dirt. “Well, Gordon, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Coomer said as he climbed out of the resulting crater, sounding shaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon blinked. “...Huh. So, what’s up there? How many hours of walking to the nearest village, do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing there.” Coomer growled, voice turning deadly serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused. “What? Like no- no settlements? There’s got to be like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing there.” Coomer repeated. His eyes were wide, but he seemed more numb than panicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s got to be just- like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing there. Nothing but the trees...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to breathe, suddenly. Gordon liked to think that he was good under pressure, at the very least being able to put on a veneer of calm in the face of danger. But this was something on a whole different level than what he was used to, and he could feel panic starting to take him over. “What are we- what do we do? What if, the whole space-time thing, what if this place is just irrevocably fucked? What if this is some kind of- some kind of pocket dimension situation? What if Black Mesa’s all there is? What if this is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we kill everyone and take it for ourselves.” Bubby said as if simply stating the obvious. His voice was so (outwardly) calm, confidence so (visibly) unshaken, that it dragged Gordon out of his panic (and quite a bit into confusion over how Bubby could apparently not care about this).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess we would just live here.” Gordon said with a little laugh, trying to pull his thoughts away from what lay outside the castle grounds (and ignoring Benrey’s little mumbled “that would be nice, actually.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think it’s high time we get moving.” Coomer said, snapping out of his own horrified trance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say so, huh! ...Man, I hope we make it out of here.” Gordon mumbled under his breath, walking into an entrance to the castle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mood remained rather tense as they resumed their search for the vampire. They hadn’t been planning on running away, but knowing that the option wasn’t there… well, that definitely had an impact on morale. There weren’t many zombies to fight in this part of the castle either. In theory, that was a good thing, but after a solid hour (probably? Gordon was finding it harder and harder to keep track of time in this place) of wandering empty hallways and wondering if he would ever make it home, Gordon was itching for a fight to distract him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could tell that the others were having similar thoughts. Well. Most of the others. Benrey had perked up noticeably, apparently knowing something the rest of them didn’t. “You’re going to like this. ‘S good. Just wait.” So that was immensely helpful information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey herded the team into a room with two open windows overlooking a large courtyard, a large red button placed between the windows. He started to push Gordon towards the button, grin spread wide across his face in the most visible display of excitement Gordon had ever seen on him. Gordon hesitantly held his hand up to the button. He glanced back at Benrey, who nodded enthusiastically, before pressing the button. “Boop.” He said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An alarm went off, and metal covers started to slide down over the windows with a rusty squeal. Undeterred, Benrey started trying to climb outside. “Du- Be- Be-Be-Be-Be-Be-Be-Be-Benrey! Benrey!” Gordon shouted, rendered almost incoherent by panic, as he pulled Benrey away from the closing covers, failing to notice Bubby sliding through the other window. “Remember that one time when you got fucking crushed by one of those!?” Gordon shouted as the covers finished their descent, leaving only a sliver of glass to look through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well now it’s closed I kinda wanted that okay.” Benrey said in one breath, disappointed. Gordon was no longer paying attention to Benrey. He was watching the ground in the courtyard slowly give way, dirt crumbling into the opening pit. Slowly, something rose from the pit. Shiny. Metal. Aerodynamic. Gordon could do nothing but stare in awe at the rocket rising from the earth of Black Mesa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MY DREAM COMES TRUUUUEEEE!” He could faintly hear Bubby shout, crouched on top of the rocket with no apparent fear of falling off. “I’M LEAVING THIS WORLD!!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crazy son of a bitch!” Gordon said in awe, unable to tear his eyes away from Bubby, now doing a little dance as the platform under the rocket clicked into place, level with the rest of the courtyard. He forced himself to look away, talking to Benrey and pointing frantically outside. “Bubby went- Bubby’s on the rocket. AHH!” Gordon yelped, falling over and shielding his eyes as the engine lit up, blinding light shining through the small viewing window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bubby, no! THERE’S NOTHING OUT THERE!” Coomer screamed over the roar of the rocket. Not seeming to care about the light (and heat now, pushing through insulation that hadn’t been tested in decades), he ran right up to the window, yelling frantically and banging on the metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The roaring engine and the bright light slowly died away. Gordon stood up, watching the metal covers slowly slide back up with a painful screech like nails on a chalkboard. The second there was a gap wide enough, Coomer squirmed through, running into the courtyard and yelling desperately for Bubby. Gordon stared as it slowly sunk in that they had lost a teammate again; and he doubted Bubby would come back as easily as Benrey had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon! I was in outer space!” Bubby shouted, running back into the room. He didn’t look any worse for wear; sure, he was slightly singed, but it was hard to tell how much of that was new. Gordon stared, all other thoughts and emotions on pause as his brain redirected all processing power to trying to explain Bubby’s survival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bubby, is that you!?” Coomer shouted from outside, sprinting back towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YES!” Bubby shouted gleefully. He ran up and flung himself through the window, just in time for Coomer to crash into him with a bone crushing hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, leaning against the wall. Nearly losing a teammate, again, then getting them back in defiance of all logic, again, was the straw (more of a whole bale, really) currently crushing the camel’s back. He felt bad, wanting to take a break again so soon. It’s only been a day or so since he last slept, he thinks, and he’s stayed up for longer than that on some jobs. But this had been a… eventful day would be a vast underexaggeration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we need to call it for- call it a day.” Gordon said, Tommy nodding in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like to dream.” Bubby said, pulling himself and Coomer back inside. They sat against the wall, Coomer curled up and… well, he seemed to be lightly and rhythmically punching Bubby in the stomach, and it took a moment for Gordon to realize he was lovetapping out morse code. “...I don’t think I technically have any bones </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>break falling off a rocket. And how could I have resisted going into space for the first time? ...The volcano doesn’t count.” Bubby said almost too quietly for Gordon to hear, leaning against Coomer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey pouted, standing right next to the button. “Can I launch again. Let’s go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head. “No, we can’t launch the rocket again, it’s in space already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Press button one more time please?” Benrey said, tilting his head like a puppy looking for a treat, any inherent cuteness in that action offset by the grin that put his fangs on full display.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t- it won’t do anything.” Gordon warned, as Benrey pressed the button anyways. The alarm went off again, window covers beginning to slide back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Benrey said, sliding through the window before Gordon could stop him. (“Let’s do it again! Ow. I’m joking, Coomer.” Bubby exclaimed in the background.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon scoffed. “No, you dumbass, there’s no- why-” Gordon cut himself off as another rocket began to rise up from the pit in the courtyard. There were </span>
  <em>
    <span>multiple </span>
  </em>
  <span>rockets in this crumbling castle? Was there just a fleet of rockets under their feet? What did a vampire even need rockets for? </span>
</p><p><span>Benrey stared at the rocket, concerned for a different reason than Gordon. There was really</span> <span>only one rocket; he hadn’t expected anything to actually happen when he pushed the button. And when he looked closely, it was the exact same rocket that had just gone soaring off into space seconds ago, down to the scratches in the paint. Something was wrong.</span></p><p>
  <span>But Gordon didn’t know that, and Gordon didn’t need to know that, so Benrey just turned back towards the window with a smile, waving at the vampire hunters through the little gap in the metal. “Hey.” Gordon said, waving back. “What’re you doing out there?” He said, peering around Benrey to watch the rocket beginning to fire up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty cool, right.” Benrey said, ignoring the gathering light and heat behind him as it increased and increased until it felt like he’d stepped out in full sunlight (but less deadly, he hopes; he hadn’t really tested his immunity to rockets before) and hey, maybe he should turn around? “Oh.” He said as he turned around, the roar of the rocket drowning him out as Gordon screamed in pain (really, he should have looked away </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>the fire got bright enough to blind him), ducking down and covering his eyes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon waited, knowing that Benrey hadn’t really been observing the rocket launch from a safe distance, but also knowing that there wasn’t much he could do about it. He listened to the sound of the rocket dying away, the bright light fading with it, and he stood back up, staring out the window. “Where’d he go- where did he go? He just got burnt to ashes! Benrey just got fucking incinerated!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss him every day.” Coomer said with just a touch of sarcasm as he and Bubby got up to go look out the window with Gordon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t miss him.” Gordon grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to do that again!” Tommy said gleefully, hand hovering over the button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop launching rockets!” Gordon said. Mostly because he didn’t want to know how many rockets there were, but also… “You’re just going to let the zombies know where we are!” As if to illustrate his point, a zombie lunged through the doorway. A very short-lived zombie, thanks to Coomer’s fists, but enough of a scare to take the enthusiasm out of their rocket-powered frenzy. Tommy sadly took his hand away from the button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, sitting down. “No more rocket- oh, hey, Benrey. Hey Benrey, hey bud.” He muttered, watching Benrey walk in, unharmed by the rocket fire. Benrey sat down next to Gordon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice.” Benrey said. Nothing in his tone or expression indicated it was a question, but he seemed tense. Gordon nodded, smiling at him, and Benrey brightened considerably. Guess he just wanted to be sure that Gordon liked the rockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Benrey.” Gordon said, lying down. He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>as tired as he was the last time they took a break (damn close though), and the hard floor was bothering him more. To think he had complained about his bed at the inn. “Goodnight Bubby. Goodnight Tommy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight!” Bubby said, lying down as well. Dr Coomer curled up by his feet, snoring already. Benrey sat there awkwardly, not seeming to know what to do, before suddenly flopping over and going completely limp. Normal human sleeping. Nailed it. Tommy… stayed sitting up, glowing eyes locked on the door. Someone had to keep watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Tommy.” Gordon repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need to sleep yet!” Tommy insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should. You really should, buddy. Look, I can take the first watch, okay? You can get back up in a few hours to take over for me if you really want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned. Though he was feeling worn out (freeing Forzen took more out of him than he thought) he could go much longer without sleep than Gordon did, but if he said that, Gordon would want an explanation. Tommy’s gotten decent at stretching the truth to pass as human, but no amount of careful wording could protect against a direct hit from a question like that. ...He’d thought this would be easy, seeing that his dad did stuff like this all the time before the incident, but he hadn’t really taken into account that his dad could lie. “...I’m not tired, Mr. Freeman. But if it makes you feel better… I’ll take over in an hour.” Tommy lay down, closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. “Okay, they’re asleep.” He muttered to himself, looking over the team. Bubby chose that moment to stand up, as if to spite him. “Hold on. No no no, go to bed!” Gordon insisted as Bubby walked to the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to.” Bubby said, climbing up into the windowframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you gonna watch the stars for a while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby scowled. “I want to go back. I’m going back!” In one smooth movement, he swung himself out the window and up onto the roof. He waited for a moment, but Gordon didn’t try to follow, or even stick his head out the window. Good. Bubby sighed, a little puff of flame coming out. He lay back, staring up at the stars and thinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought this would be over a lot sooner. He and Coomer haven’t ever done something like this before, but they were both powerful fighters and could use a little extra cash, so… why not give vampire hunting a shot? But Bubby had been under the impression that it would take just a day or so. They were running well past that with no end in sight, and now it seemed that they were trapped, unable to just melt down the fence and run if something went wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>feeling trapped. This excuse to set things on fire had been fun for a while, but now that he couldn’t bail out? Now that he could get hurt? Now that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Coomer </span>
  </em>
  <span>could get hurt? He didn’t want to be here. He just wanted to go home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Big catastrophes start with small mistakes. Dramatic, flashy, deliberate ignitions are the exception that proves the rule. A baker’s oven on Pudding Lane not properly extinguished. A campfire set by a surveying crew near the Chinchaga River to keep flies off their horses. A curious bit of flame investigating a trap made of glass and fluid and fireproof skin. All it takes is one little stray spark to set a disaster in motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour and a half later, with Benrey climbing up to the roof once he was sure Gordon was firmly asleep and Tommy was too focused on keeping watch to notice. “Hey. Pst. Bubby.” Benrey whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You uh. You seem kinda sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby scowled. “I want to get this over with and go home. I thought this would be a lot quicker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey nodded sympathetically. “It’s taking a while. Gordon can’t go too fast. Weak little human man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That got a bit of a laugh out of Bubby. “You can say that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flint meets steel. “...You know how you can get out of here faster?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Benrey fucks up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gordon woke up, groaning quietly as he forced his eyes open. He wasn’t where he had fallen asleep, he realized blearily. That was weird. His eyes focused, and he realized Bubby was standing over him, the light reflecting off his glasses glinting coldly. “...Huh? Bubby? What are you doin’...” Bubby punched him. “Ow- AHHHHHHH!” Gordon screamed, as he felt himself tumbling through a hole in the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rise and shine!” Bubby called from above, almost mockingly. Gordon’s panicked flailing found him with a hand wrapped around the rung of a ladder, feet scrambling for purchase as he pulled himself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing to me, man!?” Gordon cried out, anger and confusion battling for the bigger cut of real estate in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was trying to get you to progress so we could go the hell home!” Bubby explained, climbing down the ladder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could wake me up like a human!” Gordon hissed, earning an offended look and a few attempted kicks to the head from Bubby. A few kicks came close enough that Gordon hurried down the rest of the ladder before Bubby could try again. He found the others at the bottom of the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Gordon! I see operation ‘Roll You Down The Ladder Like a Barrel’ was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>complete </span>
  </em>
  <span>failure!” Coomer said cheerfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a total failure, and I don’t approve!” Gordon snapped. “Let’s keep it- Let’s keep it kosher! And less like… hostile! Were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying </span>
  </em>
  <span>to kill me?” The silence was much, much longer than Gordon was comfortable with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...No.” Bubby said finally, not sounding entirely sure of himself. Gordon chose to ignore that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. “Look, we’re not… we’re not actually getting anywhere with this, right? Do any of us know what we’re doing? We’re just running around and looking all over this castle for a vampire, and all we know about the vampire is that his name is Darnold!” He heard Benrey poorly attempt to stifle a surprised laugh. “What. What now.” Gordon sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro you think it’s Darnold? Darnold scary vampire moments?” Benrey asked, barely suppressing laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you said ‘Darnold fucked up’ when asked about the space-time instability and the zombies, so I just kind of assumed Darnold was the vampire living here-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Space Jam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Space Jam. You don’t. Don’t have to give it a fancy name. Reality got stuck, like a, like a, like in a printer. Like paper jam. Space Jam.” Benrey said with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I’d say we have about three more days until we reach Darnold!” Coomer interjected before Gordon could voice his concerns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three days!?” Gordon exclaimed, now concerned for an entirely different reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say we have about two more days until we reach Darnold!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon relaxed a little. “You’re fuckin’ around.” Just a joke. He pointedly ignored that thought that it might as well be multiple more days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d say we have about three more hours until we reach Darnold!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool! Okay! Okay!” Gordon said, resigning himself to the fact that nobody seemed to have any better ideas than what they were doing now. “We should be low on threats, we haven’t seen too many zombies lately. I’m going to be optimistic, and assume that will continue.” Gordon said, though he took out his axe just in case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo put that away please?” Benrey said, cautiously eyeing the plank of wood studded with stakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? My piece of wood? My axe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon laughed a bit, confused. “We need to arm ourselves!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah don’t do that? I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to! There’s no other choice!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Benrey hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I’m gonna look you right in the eyes and tell you this-” Gordon sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey what’s up.” Benrey said, smile starting to tug at his face as his eyes started flashing blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I! Am no longer going to listen to a word you say!” Gordon said, not noticing that he was putting his axe away. “I don’t care.” He insisted, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Benrey said, barely able to keep himself from smirking. “Okay we should get going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon!” Bubby shouted, grabbing the hunter’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You ready to go?” Gordon asked. His headache felt a little bit worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want. To go. Home! Gordon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go home! Let’s find Darnold!” Gordon snarled, irritated. He wanted to go home too, Bubby’s not special!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By my calculations, there’s about one more hour before we reach Darnold at this pace!” Coomer said cheerfully as the group got moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like that estimate! Alright, grab your gear.” Gordon said, enthusiasm dimming slightly as he turned the corner to see a train sitting there. But he sat down, let Bubby take the controls, and hoped it would be over soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was thrown off the train ten seconds in, and that set the tone for the rest of the ride. At the very least, it was a brief ride, as Coomer set the train to a far higher speed than was reasonable, and Benrey somehow steered it off the tracks and through a wall. Great teamwork there. He’d be proud in literally any other situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kept moving downwards as they walked. Gordon was fairly sure that they were going below ground level, but he couldn’t be sure. He was pretty lost, admittedly; he wasn’t sure how far up or down the team had dragged him while he was asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the castle started getting wet, riddled with underwater rooms and tunnels. Bubby didn’t really appreciate that. He was out of his element in the water. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d die if he so much as touched it. He was lucky he’d been taught to swim; even if he’d nearly set Coomer on fire for his efforts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU’RE BREATHING ALL MY AIR, GET OUT OF HERE!” Bubby shouted as he burst into an air pocket. He needed oxygen. Oxygen to breathe, to burn, to keep the smothering, cold weight off of him. Coomer gave him a concerned look before ducking back into the water, but said nothing. Bubby wouldn’t confess to being scared while anyone else was listening anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby was the first out when they reached the end of that passageway, followed shortly by Gordon. “Oh, is it… please tell me it’s over…” Gordon gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhh my god.” Bubby groaned miserably, soaking wet and shivering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No more of that. I will stab myself here and now if we have to do that shit again.” Gordon hissed, grabbing at the wet handle of his axe to emphasize his point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer, Tommy and Benrey popped out of the water behind him. “I smell like sewage!” Coomer complained, shaking himself like a wet dog as Tommy tried to shield himself from the splatter. Benrey gave Bubby a pointed look; maybe that would have gone faster, or they could have gone around, if Gordon wasn’t leading the way?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I believe we’re finally done with water.” Bubby said, more out of hope than anything. He turned the corner. “...FUCK!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon brought his team through the water sections as fast as he could. Really, he did. It wasn’t his fault that this part of the castle was flooded. And at some point he did tune out Bubby’s complaints a bit. So he didn’t quite notice when Bubby and Benrey started whispering to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did catch them a couple minutes after they started talking, but they feigned ignorance. He brushed it off at first. It wasn’t like there was a rule against people talking without the leader hearing. Nothing to worry about. But he kept hearing them as they went further into the castle, and what he did overhear was starting to get a bit concerning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a Van Helsing cosplayer oh my god…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ little dumb bitch with an orange cloak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lil baby… bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slap him on his leathery ass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...They were making fun of his outfit. That stung! That stung a lot, actually! He designed his vampire-hunting attire himself! “Hey! What’s up!” Gordon hissed as he approached, fake smile pressed hard onto his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby blinked. “What?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I dunno.” Gordon said slowly, not entirely sure if it was the best idea to confront them on this. They did kind of have to rely on each other here. Was it really worth acknowledging their opinions on his fashion sense, when they were trying to kill a vampire together?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t friends talk?” Bubby muttered disdainfully as Gordon walked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least, they seemed to be out of the water for good. That would improve everyone’s mood, right? Gordon hoped so, because he didn’t really have time for some team-building exercises here. He’d just have to trust that Bubby and Benrey still had his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they seemed to! Sure, they kept whispering to each other. Sure, they would never acknowledge it when Gordon noticed. Sure, maybe Bubby's mood only seemed to get worse, and sure, maybe Benrey kept smiling for no apparent reason with an expression awfully resembling anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sure, maybe Bubby and Benrey were flanking the entrance to a dead-end room, encouraging him to go in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at all- look at all that room.” Benrey said happily, pointing inside. “They got TV and BLU-RAY. High definition…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon eyed the room warily. He couldn’t see a television from here. “We don’t need that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They got a couch-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not interested. I’m not interested in like, entertainment, we’re in a vampire’s lair if you haven’t noticed-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like HD-DVD, IDIOT, or do you like BLU-RAY, friend?” Benrey interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I don’t think a vampire would even have Blu-ray.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna go in? Please?” Benrey said, tension creeping into his voice. Gordon paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care?” He asked suspiciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good.” Bubby said with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay. I don’t like… TV.” Benrey said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon narrowed his eyes, but… what did he have to lose? If this was some stupid prank or something, he’d humor them. No harm in that. “Alright, I’ll go for it.” He muttered, and stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, the lights went out. Gordon jumped a little, startled, but calmed quickly. He huffed in irritation. “Okay, who’s fucking with me?” He demanded. Nobody said a word. He heard footsteps behind him. And then he heard the roar of a fire springing to life, heat and light flaring into existence in the doorway of the only exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whirled around, eyes wide. Bubby stood outside, concentrating on the blazing fire separating them, flames so high that Gordon could barely see Coomer and Tommy, standing behind Bubby. Both looked startled, but uncertain as to how to react. Benrey was inside the room with Gordon. His back was to the fire, casting his face in shadow, except for the glitter of light reflecting off his teeth and the pulsing blue glow of his eyes. Benrey took a step closer to Gordon, who stumbled back, starting to feel afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, bro.” Benrey said soothingly. His eyes started flashing green. “Not mean, remember? Your best buddy Benrey, not gonna hurt you…” Gordon’s head was pounding. This was wrong. This was very wrong. He was terrified. But why would he be afraid of Benrey, good friend Benrey…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-Bubby, extinguish that fire now.” Tommy said, voice cold. Bubby shook his head, expression unchanging. A vine shot up from the ground and wrapped tight around Bubby’s arm. That got a reaction. Bubby shouted in surprise, attention taken from the blaze in the doorway for a moment. Bubby’s arm caught alight, and the vine with it. The fire crept along Bubby’s body as the vine burned, wrapping him in a protective layer of flame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy started flinging more vines at Bubby (though he seemed to be tiring quickly), trying to grow them faster than Bubby could burn them, to pin Bubby down and neutralize his firepower. Gordon couldn’t quite see who was winning. He found himself not really caring, too focused on Benrey. On those flashing eyes, moving closer and closer… Benrey grinned, and whatever hold he had on Gordon’s mind, the primal fear of glowing eyes and razor sharp teeth in the dark overrode it. Gordon screamed, punching Benrey in the face and scrambling back until he hit a wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey hissed in pain and anger, flinching and clutching his face. He took a moment to compose himself, then stuck his tongue out at Gordon. “Rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fucking vampire!” Gordon yelled. It felt good to say it, for his brain and his eyes to agree about Benrey for the first time since he met him, but the satisfaction came second to fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey nodded in acknowledgement, then lunged. Gordon yelped, and in a flash of brilliant instinct hunched up and shielded his neck. In a much less useful instinctive reaction, he flung out a hand to try and slap Benrey away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely had time to realize the extent of his mistake before Benrey grabbed his hand in a viselike grip. Benrey opened his mouth, slammed his face into the vampire hunter’s wrist, and Gordon’s world exploded into nothing but pain. He screamed in agony, trying to pull away to no avail. He could faintly hear Tommy screaming, hear Coomer’s muttered “Oh dear.” and see the flames die down slightly, Bubby’s face coated in shock and regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey easily stepped aside as roots tried to curl around his legs and pull him away (Tommy should have conserved his energy, should have been better prepared to defend Gordon, but hindsight’s always 20/20). He stopped biting, licking his lips clean of blood. He brought his own arm to his mouth, using a fang to tear a long line down it. His own blood started beading up, dark and viscous. He brought his arm to Gordon’s face, gently prying Gordon’s mouth open. “Take a fuckin sip babe? Please? Good for you?” He said coaxingly, trying to drip the blood into Gordon’s jaws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely conscious, Gordon cringed at the taste, like iron coated in sugar. Something in his head clicked, and he found himself latched onto the wound, drinking greedily. A faint sense of memory told him this was a bad, bad idea, but instinct was taking the driver’s seat. Benrey grinned. “Unreal sippage. Gonna be best friends, gonna play in the mud and in the sand together-” And that’s when everything started to go terribly wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world shuddered. Like a silent earthquake, a tremor that passed through and left an uneasy feeling, like reality had just shifted a few inches to the left. “...What was that?” Bubby asked, unsettled. The world shuddered again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I detect increased distortions in the Space Jam!” Coomer said, voice shaky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey winced. “Uh, Feetman, can you drink a little faster, hurry up with the whole transformation thing-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, zombies. Without warning, they were packing the hallways on either side of the room, trapping Bubby, Tommy, and Coomer. Tommy screamed, roots flying up from the ground to wrap around zombies and pull them right through the floor. But weakened as he was, it was all he could do to trip them. “There’s too many of them!” Tommy cried out, pulling up a wall of plants to keep back the zombies in the hallway closest to him. </span>
</p><p><span>Coomer’s fists were a blur, but… “I have to admit, this is terrible</span> <span>timing!” He chirped, cheerful tone strained past the point of believability. “Bubby, couldn’t this have waited until </span><em><span>after </span></em><span>sundown- gah!”</span></p><p>
  <span>Bubby had been maintaining the wall of fire, but it dimmed a little as he turned to Coomer. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m perfectly fine- ah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coomer!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah- I’ve got this handled- arg- perfectly- gah! P-Perfectly under control!” Coomer screamed in pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HAROLD!” Bubby screamed back, eyes wide. The fire in the doorway died, plunging them all into darkness. The only light came from the occasional burst of flame from Bubby, illuminating the scene in the hallway. Tommy holding up a wall of plants being torn apart. Coomer huddled on the ground, whimpering, in agony. Bubby with his teeth bared, flinging fire at anything that dared to get close. The zombies closing in all around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey wasn’t scared. Duh. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wasn’t scared, he was already undead. The zombies wouldn’t touch him! So ignore the zombies clipping impossibly through the walls of the overstuffed hallways, clawing their way towards the still-human Gordon. This is fine. This is absolutely fine. If Gordon could just drink a little faster, please…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the world broke. Gordon felt himself being flung away, tumbling out of control as reality unraveled around him. He supposed the walls still technically existed, but that didn’t seem to matter as he passed right through them into a void. He spun in a slow circle, hair drifting up and floating around his face. Castle walls and spires jutted around him at impossible angles and proportions, shuddering in and out of existence. Human blood poured from his wrist and vampire blood dribbled from his mouth as he stared in awe at the forest wrapped above and below and around all he could see. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s nothing there but the trees…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He drifted around to face the room he had left again. He could see it in cutaways, the walls just fading away in patches. He could see Tommy, Bubby, Coomer, one by one, flung through the walls and the floor and the ceiling as the zombies overwhelmed him, drifting for a moment before just vanishing. He could see Benrey, standing in a room packed with zombies that ignored him. Gordon blinked, distantly feeling that he should worry about the uncomprehending shock and terror on the vampire’s face. He giggled weakly, a thought popping slowly into his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on and slam, and welcome to the jam…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt himself falling as the world crashed back into existence. The forest and the spires and the zombies and Benrey all faded, as Gordon's eyes slowly slid closed, unconsciousness finally taking him as he fell into the wrong side of a trash compactor.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Gordon Need Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Gordon woke slowly. Everything hurt. He tried to pry his eyes open, but they slammed back shut with a startled hiss. Too bright. Way too bright. The ground beneath him was softer than he expected; hard enough that his back ached from lying on it for so long, but it certainly wasn’t a stone floor. He rolled over, ignoring the pain that movement brought, and tried to open his eyes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision was blurry. He blinked, shaking his head and struggling to focus. He glanced up at the sky; overcast, like every day since he came here. And still, he felt the urge to get out of the weakened sunlight. Maybe he’d see better without it. His throat was dry, and his mouth tasted and felt awful; like somebody had taken cotton candy, poured a tub of blue raspberry flavoring over it, filled the sugary fluff with nails and shoved it in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was alone. It wasn’t good to be alone. Vampire-hunting teams getting separated usually meant someone was about to die. Find the others. Safety in numbers. That was practically instinct at this point. How had he been separated- the memory of how he got here came crashing down on him like a freight train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrambled to his feet with a shouted curse. He stumbled, collapsing against the side of the trash compactor. Maybe don’t move so fast after all that blood loss, huh? Best to sit down and do some first aid to himself the best he could without a proper kit, huh? Guess what survival tips he didn’t fucking feel like following right now, huh? “BENREY!” Gordon screamed, furious. “BUBBY!” He added, spitting out the name like venom. Furious, he tried to ball his hands into fists… and that’s when he noticed his right wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most people Gordon talked to (aside from other vampire hunters, of course) had the same neat, pretty, almost romantic, idea of what a vampire bite looked like. Two neat, perfect little circles arranged artfully on a neck, maybe with a drop of blood dripping tastefully from one. In reality, most vampires just tear open whatever they can reach and gulp down whatever sprays out. And Benrey was the messiest eater Gordon had ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Experimentally, Gordon attempted to twitch a finger. His hand exploded in agony, and he cried out, pressing the injury against his chest to try and staunch the fresh bleeding. It took Gordon longer than he would like to admit to compose himself. Look on the bright side. His hand is still nominally attached!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...But frankly, given the look of the wound, a proper amputation would likely be the best-case scenario. Especially considering he won’t likely be leaving for days. If he gets out at all, which seems less and less likely when reviewing the facts. He’s down a hand, in a vampire’s lair infested with zombies, suffering from blood loss, and his team has betrayed him and left him alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he seems to be alive as of the moment. Might as well try and keep that going. He used the wall of the trash compactor to support himself, eyes fixed on a ladder. Dragging himself up a ladder one-handed, sure. He’s had to do harder things before, though it’s difficult to think of any right now. It’s slow going; partially because of the hand thing, partially because his body feels so heavy and slow, and he could feel his heartbeat pounding too fast and too weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s occurring to him now that he’s absolutely fucked if he runs into a zombie. He still has his axe, but it’s a cold comfort. He’s not ambidextrous in the slightest; he can barely aim his swings with his left hand, let alone put enough power behind the awkward blows to save himself. He’s just going to have to be very careful and very, very lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna be okay, Gordon, you’ve been through a fucking lot.” He mumbled to himself, stumbling across the castle grounds. He’s not sure where exactly he is; a garden? Who puts a trash compactor in a garden (the same sort of person who puts a rocket in a castle courtyard, he reminded himself)? He was certain he was within the castle grounds (he doesn’t know what would happen if he was thrown beyond the fence) but there’s nothing familiar enough for reference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey.” Gordon hissed, seeing a zombie just up ahead and taking out his axe. “Hey buddy.” He mumbled as the zombie turned towards him. It stood there staring at him for a long moment, the simple mental switch of “eat” or “don’t eat” jammed in the middle. “...Can I tame these?” Gordon muttered to himself after a couple seconds of not being eaten alive. He took a step closer, the switch finally flipped one way, and Gordon screamed, dropping his axe, as the zombie lunged at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Gordon flinched, expecting to die, he felt another shudder pass through the world. Something felt… different about it this time. It was like something had hooked around him, tugging him back suddenly and violently. He found himself and the zombie both standing right where they had been a few seconds ago; and Gordon was holding the axe he had just dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The zombie picked up where they left off. Prepared this time, Gordon just lifted the sharp side of the axe to head level and let the zombie’s momentum do the rest. It took him a minute to tug the axe back out, glancing around frequently for any sign of movement. He didn’t know if he’d get a rewind like that again, and when he thought about the implications of Space Jam distortions growing more and more frequent… he might as well hope that he won’t be getting any more second chances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winced at the wet squelching as he worked the axe out of the zombie. Some of the undead were more fresh-looking than others. Ugh, the blood even hasn’t dried up all the way, it’s leaking out. You can’t be a vampire hunter and get squeamish easily, but still. Gordon just can’t stop looking at it. And kneeling down to get a little bit of a closer look. And maybe licking it a little. And maybe trying to tear off chunks of zombie with his teeth to get better access to the blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The taste shocked him back to his senses. He screamed, scrambling back and spitting frantically. “Shit! Why did I just… it didn’t even taste good!” He hissed, terrified and disgusted. A horrible thought came to him. He grabbed at his neck, fingers searching frantically until he found his pulse. He sat there for a moment, the throbbing beneath his fingertips slowing as he calmed. Benrey hadn’t turned him. He was alive. Nothing wrong with him but severe blood loss. That could certainly cloud someone’s thought processes in interesting ways, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his axe, pushing himself up to his feet while pointedly not looking at the zombie. Before long, he found himself at the walls of the castle, standing in front of another ladder leading up into some kind of drain. So back into the castle he goes, huh? ...He’s not sure if that’s a good thing. He’s not sure what he wants to do anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His job was to kill the vampire. Simple as that. But he hadn’t been told about zombies, or the Space Jam, or backstabbers who hypnotize you and wait until your guard is down. And that complicated everything. Did it matter if he killed Benrey, if he was going to be stuck here forever either way? Forzen had said that Benrey knew the exit, was that bullshit or could Benrey get them out? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Would </span>
  </em>
  <span>Benrey get them out if he could? Probably not. And if Benrey was a vampire, then what the hell was up with Darnold? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life-or-death questions, and no clue how to solve them. Well. The situation surely couldn’t get worse if he went into the castle. More likely to run into a member of his traitorous team, but still. He was bound to bleed to death or get his wound infected if he stayed out here, and he’d rather go down trying to kick someone’s ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hauled himself up the ladder, fueled by his steadily increasing determination to go out swinging. He climbed into the drain, carefully keeping his wrist well above the thin layer of dirty water on the bottom. After a couple minutes of crawling through the dark, cramped pipes, he saw a light up ahead and heard… somebody crying? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crawled up a little further, sticking his head out the pipe to get a better look. The room was dark, lit mostly by the giant vats and canals filled with some glowing green sludge. There was someone sitting, curling up and crying, by one of the canals. Two glowing, golden butterfly wings sat on their back, fluttering gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HEY! HE-” The figure uncurls with a start, looking up for the source of the noise, and Gordon sees pointed ears, glowing eyes full of tears, and a familiar face. “TOMMY! TOMMY, UP HERE!” Gordon shouts, waving his mangled hand (ow, ow, shit, shouldn’t have done that) frantically, way too overwhelmed to even question what the hell is up with Tommy right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-Hello, Mr. Freeman…” Tommy said, wings disappearing and eyes losing their glow as he tried to make himself appear human again (though he doubted that it really mattered at this point if Gordon knew what he was). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to try and kill me too!? Are you here to finish me off!?” Gordon yelled, trying to pull himself out of the pipe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shook his head. “No! They tricked me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Gordon said, tumbling to the ground. “Oh, my fucking hand!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think Benrey would hurt you! I thought it was fine, and I didn’t stop him when I could have, and it was too late when I realized what he was doing!” Tommy wailed. “I was supposed to protect you, that was my only job, and… OH MY GOD YOUR WRIST!” Tommy cried out, just now realizing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon let out a quiet, defeated laugh. “I know. I know. Benrey got me good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you going to… write?” Tommy asked, stunned by the extent of the injury. He’d seen Benrey bite down, but he had no idea it was this bad…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the least of my concerns. I think I’d like to live. Where the hell are we?” Gordon mumbled, looking around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, but- but this room is full of fluids, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy said, gesturing to the canals and vats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great eyes, Tommy.” Gordon mumbled. He felt a little bad being sarcastic (Tommy just wanted to help, after all) but Tommy just rolled his eyes and jokingly stuck out his tongue, unhurt by Gordon's remark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it’s all sorts of different ingredients that don’t go together, like a, like a fruit salad in a kitchen sink! I think somebody’s been making potions, and dumping the byproduct and leftovers and failures here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon looked around at the amount of glowing sludge in the room. “Somebody who’s been doing that for a long, long time. And Benrey doesn’t seem like he has the patience. Darnold’s responsible for this, you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so! And, and you have to be smart to make potions, and Darnold has made a lot of potions so he’s clearly pretty smart, and maybe he’s smart enough to find a way to save your hand! We were going to try and find him anyways, so we just- just keep going the way we were!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s some logic to that.” Gordon admitted. He didn’t mention that he didn’t think his hand could be saved by a whole hospital full of doctors, let alone some random guy in a castle in the middle of nowhere. Didn’t matter how many potions Darnold had made before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get going though. I’m pretty sure this is all hazardous waste.” Tommy commented, walking away and gesturing for Gordon to follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Tommy? I’ve got kind of a weird question, I hope you don’t mind.” Gordon asked as he followed Tommy. “Oh, and go slow, I can’t walk too fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Mr. Freeman.” Tommy said, though there was a bit of a nervous edge to his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, exactly? And what did you mean when you said your one job was to keep me safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy cringed, but he had been expecting this. It was almost a relief, at this point, to just let the truth out. “I’m a fae. I don’t normally do stuff like this, but my dad made sure I would end up as part of your team. He- he told me that it was important to keep you safe. Which… I think he’s… just missing what he did before the incident, and living vicariously through sending me to intervene in the first suitably dramatic conflict he could find… I don’t think I should be telling you all that.” Tommy mumbled, realizing he had started to veer off topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you’re here.” Gordon said, hopping carefully over some platforms sticking out from a pool of sludge. He wobbled, and Tommy quickly reached over to stabilize him. “Thank you. Listen, when it comes to hazards like that, I’m gonna have to play it super safe! Benrey took a lot, and he didn’t give me a ton of blood back in return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy blinked, concerned. “Mr. Freeman, you’re sure you’re alive right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Checked after I tried to chew a zombie to get at its blood.” Gordon said, in a way he thought was reassuring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy stayed silent for a couple minutes. He’s… he’s going to get Gordon somewhere relatively safe, before he deals with all of that. He guides Gordon mostly safely (so he slipped into the sludge maybe one or two times, that’s probably fine) through a line of storage rooms stuffed with the glowing goop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the line was an apparent dead end, with a large pool resting against the wall of the room. Gordon eyed it warily. “I’m guessing raw sewage… probably isn’t good to get in a wound like this either?” He asked, holding up his injured wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is clean water.” Tommy said, not examining the water very closely. Wasn’t lying if you didn’t know it wasn’t true. He climbed in, seeing an underwater tunnel that he suspected would lead out. “Um. Mr. Freeman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Gordon said, getting in the pool, doing his best to keep his wrist out of the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… when Benrey tried to turn you… hm. He didn’t succeed, but… you drank a lot more vampire blood than you should have. I think you’re… stuck, somehow. Not quite undead. Not quite alive. And I don’t think that’s… sustainable, long-term.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-” Tommy dove before Gordon could respond, swimming through the tunnel. Gordon couldn’t see any other choice but to follow. What did Tommy mean by “stuck”? Was he really running on borrowed time? And what would happen when he ran out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tunnel opened up outside, into a garden much like the one Gordon had left earlier. The full moon provided enough light for Gordon to see and grab Tommy’s hand, letting him help him out of the water. Gordon opened his mouth to question what the hell Tommy had been talking about, but stopped when Tommy froze. Tommy was staring right behind Gordon, who was slowly becoming aware of a deep growling noise growing louder and louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HELLO, GORDON!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 300 Wolf Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“HELLO, GORDON!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s reaction time saved Gordon’s life. Tommy grabbed him and pulled him away as Coomer lunged, claws scoring deep gashes into the dirt where Gordon had been standing half a second ago. Coomer growled, whirling around to try again. At the speed he was moving, Gordon couldn’t recognize more than the fact that Coomer was larger and covered in fur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That movement suddenly stopped, letting Gordon realize two things. One, Coomer was a werewolf, thick fur covering a frame that was already powerful enough to punch zombies into pieces </span>
  <em>
    <span>without </span>
  </em>
  <span>doubling in size and gaining massive claws and teeth. Two, Coomer had stopped because Tommy had grabbed his open jaws, arms trembling with the effort of holding him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Run, Mr. Freeman! Run faster than a-” Coomer tossed his head, easily lifting Tommy off the ground and flinging him into a nearby tree. So Gordon never found out what exactly Tommy wanted him to run faster than, but as he took off with a panicked shriek, he figured he was going pretty much the proper speed anyways. He heard Coomer howling behind him, cut off by a startled yelp, but Gordon didn’t look back to see the cause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt a bit guilty for just leaving Tommy behind, but frankly Tommy was far more likely to survive than he was. He was starting to feel lightheaded after mere seconds, stumbling as he tried to maintain speed. He occurred to him that it wasn’t entirely impossible that he’d just pass out here. If this comes down to outrunning Coomer, he’s just going to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a hedge maze up ahead. He can’t run faster than Coomer, but if he can get into the maze, force Coomer to slow down and track him… he might have a chance. Also, he doesn’t have any other options. He runs into the maze, taking a right, and choosing his next turns without slowing down, hoping he won’t find himself in a dead end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon!” He heard Coomer calling, cheerfully from the maze’s entrance. “I know that Benrey knows the way out! AND I CAN SMELL HIS BLOOD ON YOU!” Gordon let out a little burst of terrified laughter, doing his best to run faster. He could see a figure rising into the air, flying unsteadily over the maze. One of Tommy’s wings was torn, but he stayed in flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, I can’t slow him down! What should I do!?” Tommy shouted down, frantic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got this! I’ll just get him lost, and he’ll have to slow down eventually!” Gordon shouted back. He heard the sound of leaves rustling, and branches snapping apart, growing closer and closer. ...Oh. Wait a second. A werewolf doesn’t just depend on sight to find someone, or necessarily need to follow the paths laid out in a maze… “ACTUALLY, PLEASE KEEP ME FROM REACHING A DEAD END!” Gordon screamed, as Coomer tore through the hedges and howled triumphantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… go left! And then right! And… and…” Tommy called out instructions as fast as he could. He struggled to keep his focus several steps ahead of Gordon, instead of on Coomer slowly making a straight path through the maze. One slip-up, one wrong word, one failure to see far enough ahead, and Tommy doubted there was enough time to recover from running Gordon into a dead end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer’s howls were nearly drowning out Tommy’s directions, and getting louder. Or… just getting closer. Oh god definitely just getting closer. Gordon shrieked in alarm as Coomer broke through the bushes behind him. His scream was adruptly cut off as Coomer slammed into him; Gordon was spared more severe injury by the fact that he was thrown into a hedge rather than onto the ground. As it was, the impact knocked all the air out of his lungs, and Coomer’s claws dug deep into his shoulder as the werewolf grabbed him and held him in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been outside Black Mesa, Gordon Freeman.” Coomer growled. “There’s nothing there. But I know there’s a way to escape. AND I NEED TO GO THERE.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey didn’t tell me anything! If there’s a safe way out I don’t know it!” Gordon screamed (though he doubted Coomer was even listening), struggling to escape Coomer’s grip. “TOMMY! GET HIM AWAY! GET HIM AWAY!” Thorny vines shot up from the ground, wrapping around Coomer’s arms. The thorns were far sharper than they should be, but the deep scratches they left healed as soon as they drew blood. It was enough for Coomer to loosen his grip in surprise, just for long enough that Gordon could wriggle free and start running again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy had dropped out of the air, landing on top of a bush just outside Coomer’s reach. He was doing everything he could to stop Coomer from moving closer, or at all really. The thicket growing around Coomer was proving much more resilient than the bushes. But any pain from the thorns lasted no more than a second (though Coomer’s curly white fur was quickly turning red as he struggled) so it was just a matter of persistence. And Coomer didn’t look like he was planning on backing down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“THIS IS A NIGHTMARE!” Gordon screamed as he sprinted, now with no helpful aerial view. He took his turns at random, desperately wanting to believe that Tommy had everything under control. Tommy did not have everything under control. “THIS IS A </span>
  <em>
    <span>FUCKING </span>
  </em>
  <span>NIGHTMARE!” Gordon repeated for emphasis, hearing footsteps rapidly gaining on him as he turned a corner and- oh no. No, no, no, no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“End of the line, Gordon.” Coomer snarled, as Gordon stared in dismay at the dead end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No! NO!” Gordon retorted eloquently, trying to climb the walls of the hedge maze. Fueled by adrenaline, he managed to haul himself over a wall, falling into the water on the other side. After a moment of confusion he realized it was a river running through the center of the maze, a long line of bridges on either side of him connecting the two halves. He picked a direction and started swimming, hearing Coomer’s howl of fury still far too close for comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do I do? What do I do? What in the fuck do I do? What in the FUCK have I even gotten myself into!?” He mumbled to himself frantically. He swam as fast as he could, hearing a splash in the distance. He could barely breathe from exhaustion when he pulled himself out of the water… next to the entrance to the maze? What? He spent a minute going through the mental gymnastics necessary to picture how the hell that worked, before giving up. Space Jam shit again, probably. He’s so tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the worst day of my life!” Gordon sobbed as Tommy ran out of the maze. “Did he escape? You need to tell me if he escaped!” Gordon begged, reaching for Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… I managed to impale him, but I don’t think he’ll stay stuck for long. He- He didn’t seem all that concerned by it, which I think is more of a Coomer thing than a werewolf thing.” Tommy said with an apologetic shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon made an incoherent sound of misery, stumbling away and flopping down facefirst in a patch of bloodstained grass. And that was just making him thirsty, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, are you okay…?” Tommy asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Gordon said, finding himself absently chewing on a blood-covered blade of grass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“SURPRISE ATTACK, GORDON!” Coomer yelled cheerfully, charging out of the maze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AUUUUGH!” Gordon screeched as Coomer laughed. He scrambled to his feet, running right back around to the river and jumping in. He briefly entertained the thought of just letting himself drown then and there, but instead he let the current pull him under a bridge, hiding there and hoping desperately Coomer didn’t see him. “Tommy!” He wailed after a silence that stretched way too long for comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, where are you?” Tommy shouted back. Gordon sighed in relief. Tommy was okay. Gordon started swimming back. </span>
</p><p><span>“Don’t tell me you k- he didn’t kill you. You can’t let him win!” Gordon cried, near-delirious with pain and terror and hm. Should he really be getting all this river water in his gaping wound? “HE CAN’T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT!” He yelled as Tommy helped him out of the water. Tommy just gave him a look that was halfway apologetic, halfway just exhausted, which made sense when Gordon heard the mumbling in the distance, ragged and out-of-breath at first but gaining more strength and calmness by the second. “A werewolf</span><span>[a]</span><span> (</span><span>Old English</span><span>: </span><em><span>werwulf</span></em><span>, "man-wolf"), or occasionally lycanthrope </span><span>/ˈlaɪkənˌθroʊp/</span><span> (</span><span>Greek</span><span>: λυκάνθρωπος </span><em><span>lukánthrōpos</span></em><span>, "wolf-person"), is a human with the ability to </span><span>shapeshift</span><span> into a </span><span>wolf</span><span> (or a </span><span>therianthropic</span> <span>hybrid</span><span> wolflike creature), either purposely or after being placed under a </span><span>curse</span><span> or affliction (often a bite or scratch from another werewolf) with the transformations occurring on the night of a </span><span>full moon</span><span>. Early sources for this ability or affliction, called lycanthropy </span><span>/laɪˈkænθrəpi/</span><span>, are </span><span>Petronius</span><span> (27–66) and </span><span>Gervase of Tilbury</span><span> (1150–1228).” Gordon tensed as the source of the sound grew closer and closer.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Ah! Hello, Gordon!” Coomer said happily. Gordon screamed in terror. “Fine work kicking my ass!” Coomer added, seemingly oblivious. His lab coat had fallen open at some point, exposing a three wolf moon shirt with the wolves painted over to look like Coomer (with the odd scorch mark proving Bubby had helped).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon scrambled back, clinging tightly to Tommy. “Stay- please! I don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer frowned, tilting his head. “Now Gordon, there’s no need to fear. Don’t let my bloody form frighten you! It’s me! Your friend, Coomer!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How c- How can- How can I trust you?” Gordon managed to say. “What are you talking- WHAT!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I- I think he’s safe, I stabbed him and he didn’t die.” Tommy said matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is kind of like the Coomer we know and love.” Gordon hissed, as if that proved anything. As Gordon slowly started to accept that Coomer wasn’t about to attack him, the werewolf waded into the river and started trying to rinse out the worst of the blood in his fur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite the bloodbath, wasn’t that, gentlemen?” Coomer said conversationally. Tommy nodded, looking a bit proud of himself, while Gordon just stared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. “Here’s where I stand. I’m going to trust you… because I have no other option. If it’s between this and the- and whatever the fuck I just experienced… I gotta go with you, man. I don’t know what that was! D-Do you know anything, was it Benrey and Bubby who planned that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer frowned. “Did Benrey and Bubby plan what just happened? Gordon, the pain of transformation and the sudden activation of predatory instincts has a tendency to severely interfere with my self-control and ability to reason for a while after the full moon rises. The stress of our situation certainly didn’t help! I suppose I would have recovered more quickly if Bubby was present to help me calm down, but I can’t imagine he would have predicted this or planned for our separation-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not this. Earlier. When Benrey tried to turn me. Bubby and Benrey were whispering to each other before that, what were they talking- I’m gonna fall over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps you should have a seat, Gordon!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should.” Gordon mumbled. He sat down next to the river, leaning against Tommy as the fae sat down with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey and Bubby have been… whispering… for quite some time, about how to… handle a problem.” Coomer said, picking his words carefully. “I believe the problem is you, Gordon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Benrey I think is lonely. But I think Bubby is just spiteful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have I done to him!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do move rather slowly. He wants to go home sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon hissed, eyes flashing a glowing red. “If I- if it’s… IF THIS! IS BECAUSE I JUST WASN’T DOING MY JOB AS FAST AS HE WOULD LIKE- I WILL EAT THAT BALD FUCK WITH MY OWN ONE HAND-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s rude to eat people with your hands, Gordon.” Coomer deadpanned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- I meant strangle. Did I say eat?” Gordon said nervously. Coomer and Tommy both nodded. Gordon groaned in despair, putting his head in his hands. “Okay. Just don’t let me eat Bubby when we find him. Just strangling. Coomer, you can help, be the other hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exciting!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t take long to find a way back inside the castle. And it was pretty quick going, with Coomer taking out pretty much every threat they came across in seconds. And Gordon would be feeling pretty great about that, he’s just… just really tired. At some point Tommy picked him up and started carrying him through the castle, but that didn’t really register until he started trying to squirm out of Tommy’s grip to reach a zombie lying on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please! Blood!? Blood for Gordon!?” He whined, scrambling to take bite down on the zombie’s neck despite Tommy’s pleas to stop, please, you’re going to regret that- Gordon spat out a dry, crispy mouthful of zombie. “It had like… two seconds of juice left.” He mumbled, feeling sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two blood?” Tommy said, concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two blood, two ccs.” Gordon confirmed sadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if we shake the zombie, there’ll be more hidden in there HAAAAAAGH!” Coomer shouted, picking up the zombie and shaking vigorously. “Usually that works.” He said with a frown as the zombie crumbled to ash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when Gordon noticed that the floor at the room up ahead was littered with zombies burnt to a crisp. He could feel the heat emanating from inside, and hear a furious high-pitched whistling screech like a kettle that wants to kill somebody. That room also happened to be the only way forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon frowned, taking a deep breath and stepping inside. It looked like some kind of kitchen in here; pretty much none of it looked like it had been touched in years, save for the unreasonably large pizza oven sitting in the middle of the room, completely filled with a blazing fire. “Oh! Look at all those pictures, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy said, pointing at some old, faded pictures on the wall. Gordon squinted at the pictures, trying to make out the subjects. In the best-preserved one, he could barely make out the image of three people; Benrey, a much-less-rotting Forzen, and a man he didn’t recognize holding up a potion bottle for the camera. All three were smiling, and Gordon couldn’t see any fangs in Benrey’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was startled out of his train of thought when he heard shouting. “Oh! Tommy! Gordon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Gordon said in confusion, turning towards the pizza oven. The voice couldn’t possibly be coming from there, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon you have to let me out, I got stuck in a pizza oven!” Bubby screamed, sounding very irritated and frustrated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon hissed as he walked slowly towards the pizza oven. “HEY MOTHERFUCKER.” He snarled, getting as close to the overheated box of fire as he dared. He squinted, trying in vain to make out the shape of Bubby against the overwhelming light. He could just barely make out the form curled up inside the pizza oven, annoyed expression frozen on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I just wanted you to know-” Bubby said, unmoving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“DO I LOOK ANY DIFFERENT TO YOU?” Gordon interrupted with a furious hiss, gesturing to his mangled wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I… never told Benrey to do that! He fooled me! He-He told me you were the reason we hadn’t been out of here, so he said to trick you into going into that room! But when the Space Jam activated, it slammed me right into this pizza oven!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friend… over here is a little frustrated with ya.” Gordon said as Coomer started punching the oven. “You wouldn’t like to, ah, break open this… this solid metal holy shit Coomer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, the pizza oven’s structural integrity is at 12%!” Coomer said, punching away at the red-hot metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohohohohohohohoho. You’re FUCKED.” Gordon said smugly. “Bubby, I’m kind of out of forgiveness, after all I’ve been through today. So… you need to prove to me that you’re telling the truth, and you need to SELL ME on that shit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHY would I go in this DAMN PIZZA OVEN!” Bubby shouted, the fire suddenly increasing in intensity. Gordon flinched with a curse, shielding his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah! How did you even get stuck in there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you! It was time to slam now, and fire elementals are STUPIDLY EASY TO TRAP! I thought it was bad enough when they made me a body!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha! Get fucked. Get fucked.” Gordon said vindictively, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll give you five dollars. If it’s not all burnt up by now.” Bubby said, mumbling something under his breath about needing to fireproof his money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five dollars, huh. So here’s the thing, y’know. An apology’s one thing, what I want from you is information. Where’s Benrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh… I’m not sure, the Space Jam took me out before I could see what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno if I believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes reality can be quite confusing; such as being stuck in A GOD DAMN PIZZA OVEN.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah! It’s karma, man. Remember when Benrey was outside with the zombies? Just chillin’? Just chillin’, like he likes to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a little bit suspicious how he didn’t get eaten, Gordon!” Coomer said, taking a quick break from punching the pizza oven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He’s definitely against us. But I’m pretty sure he talked you into this shit, so honestly, I’m gonna t- I’m gonna take your story, I’m going to take your five bucks, and, uh, we’ll let you out.” Gordon pulled open the pizza oven. The fire died down, vanishing back into Bubby, who stretched before climbing out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and just so you know, I’m now dead weight because of this. Which is your fault.” Gordon added, waving around the bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, I’m very sorry. I- I did not know he would do that. That’s kind of fucked up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a vampire, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of a little fucked up.” Bubby repeated with a small shrug, readjusting his coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep, even though he was unsure he would wake up again. But he had to keep moving. He had a goal now. Go to Darnold and get his hand fixed. He could keel over and die afterwards, that was fine, but just knowing what to do and where to go gave him strength. “Come on. Let’s go.” He said, leading his team further into this nightmare.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Gordon Is Probably Fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You guys gotta lead the way, remember? Remember that.” Gordon clarified. He was walking fine without Tommy’s support, but he found himself pressed against a wall both for support and to give him something solid in a world that looked like it was spinning and tilting all around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I forgot about your massive, gaping wound… in fact, do you need help with that?” Bubby asked, brow furrowing with concern. (As Coomer shouted “Gordon, look out, explosive devices!” in the background.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head. “We’re trying to find-” He was cut off by the sound of explosives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh oh.” Bubby commented, turning to look at Coomer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bombs are disarmed.” Coomer said, on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m blinking. I can’t s- I do not see it. I do not see it.” Gordon mumbled, turning away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Bubby asking “Are we all good?” as Coomer rolled around to put out the fire. Gordon had ceased to pay attention. He was mainly focused on the fact that he was dying. Not any faster or slower than he had been for the last couple of hours; the difference was that he was more dead (hah) certain with every second that that was what was happening. He wasn’t coming back from this. If the blood loss didn’t kill him, the whole Schrödinger’s vampire thing would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was I saying?” He heard Bubby say (a little too loud, like he had been talking and Gordon hadn’t been listening). Gordon shook his head, trying to pull himself together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were about to give me five dollars!” Coomer claimed before Gordon could say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head. “We’re heading to Darnold, and maybe he’s gonna fix my arm, maybe we’re going to kill him, I don’t know if that’s still part of the plan, maybe he’s going to kill us… oh! The five dollars, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh… I have a pizza.” Bubby said, trying to hand Gordon a crumbling disc of ash. “A large pizza is about fifteen dollars at Pizza Hut, so really you owe me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Are you kidding me? You lied!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I do have the pizza.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does have the pizza, Gordon.” Coomer said thoughtfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t eat this shit!” Gordon protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen Gordon, all my money’s back at the inn. Do you want this pizza or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t want your pizza.” Gordon hissed, pushing past Bubby and storming away the best he could without falling over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was trying to seem tough, downplay his injury so he looked like he could still defend himself if pushed. He was utterly failing at that, of course, but he was going to keep trying until the second he dropped dead. As they continued through the castle, Tommy kept giving Gordon increasingly frequent looks of concern and frustration. Putting on an act wasn’t going to help anyone. And Gordon gave in a little bit, declaring Tommy the de facto leader and tossing some responsibility to someone who could handle it better right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t just about putting on a brave face as the leader, though. He specifically didn’t want to look weak in front of Bubby. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bubby would betray him again, after last time’s spectacular failure for everyone involved, but still. He wanted to make sure that Bubby thought twice before getting any ideas. Of course, any fear of Bubby went right out the window when he saw Benrey standing in the middle of a hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out, Gordon, it’s Benrey!” Bubby shouted as Gordon started quietly breaking down. Bubby wasted absolutely no time shooting a jet of fire at Benrey, burning so hot that the stone walls around Benrey started to glow from the heat. “I got him!” Bubby declared, as the fire dissipated to reveal Benrey standing there unharmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him. Why won’t you diiieeee.” Gordon whined, grabbing Benrey and shaking him by his stupid puffy vest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop please?” Benrey said, eyes flashing blue and widening slightly as he realized that Gordon was not going to stop. Gordon was looking Benrey right in the eyes and seemed completely unaffected. Crap. “Stop, you can’t shake me unless you. Uh. Have a license. Strictly prohibited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon made a strangled noise in frustration, dropping Benrey just long enough to dig out his vampire hunter’s license and shove it in his face. Benrey gently took it, smacking his lips thoughtfully as he squinted at the card. “This says you can kill me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! It does!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing about shaking me. Gonna need a passport for that. Look, like this.” Benrey took something out of his pocket, and Gordon’s furious reply died in his throat. The air around the passport seemed to ripple and tear, distorting as Benrey pulled it around with more effort than holding a passport should take. Gordon could hear faint popping and hissing as Benrey struggled for a moment to open it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The text of the passport was blurry and obscured, and while Gordon couldn’t make out the words he was sure they were changing as he watched. A picture of Benrey sat in the corner perfectly normal, but beside it the words BENRY BENRY BENRY on endless repeat swam through (and Gordon could swear off of) the paper, curling and shifting like living things with a soft rustling sound. Not entirely sure why, Gordon reached out to touch the passport.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey snatched it back, looking almost afraid for a second. “Don’t touch that. You can’t touch somebody’s passport like that, you might… steal.” Benrey dug three more passports out of his pocket. “I need your passport though. Trying to get all the collectibles, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was still something… not right about the way the passports moved through space, but it wasn’t half as bad as Benrey’s, so Gordon elected to ignore it. He read the names aloud to himself as he flipped the passports open. “Bubby… Harold Coomer… Tommy COOLATTA!?” He turned to Tommy in disbelief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy huffed, frowning. “It’s- It’s not my true name, but I had to give them something, and I was getting my passport in a Dunkin’ Donuts, so I just looked around…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon started laughing, and he didn’t stop until several seconds after everyone started staring at him in concern. “I don’t have a passport. I don’t. I d-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man, look. You fucked up.” Benrey said suddenly, pointing at where he had torn his way into Gordon’s veins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stared in disbelief. “Shut- shut- shut up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whadya do? Not get hydrated, IDIOT? You gotta drink-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon hissed, staggering back. “You’re gonna g- you’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna kill me, talk- I can’t stand up straight. I’m sway- I’m swayin! We gotta get to Darnold fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down man, jeez.” Benrey scoffed, walking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calm down, he says.” Gordon breathed, staring after Benrey. “Calm down! He says.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, you seem to be losing a LOT of blood.” Coomer said, tilting his head in concern. “This can cause things such as: delirium, exhaustion, death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death. Pfft. Eee! Death.” Gordon said, barely coherent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Perhaps we should get a move on.” Coomer noted, glancing at the others. None of this boded well. Tommy seemed to be barely keeping from panicking, while Bubby was lighting himself on fire as if testing that it was still hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they kept going, half led by Gordon, half helping him along. There was a tense silence over the whole team; morale wasn’t looking too hot. Tommy was the one to break that silence, unable to stand the fear settling over the group for a moment longer. “My favorite… coolatta flavor is the strawberry!” He said, voice a bit overly bubbly to mask his stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t seem to notice. “Okay…” He straightened up suddenly, frowning. “Hey, those suck! Wait, a coolatta’s from Dunkin’ Donuts, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yeah.” Tommy said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s like, those, Slur-Slurpee things. Those are fuckin’ ass, man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Okay.” Tommy said, a little confused by Gordon’s hatred for coolattas. But he had apparently launched Gordon into a long ramble (at least partially inspired by blood loss) which lightened the mood a bit. At the very least, it gave everyone something to focus on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon just kept talking about coolattas. Occasionally someone would jump in with a comment or a question, but for the most part he was allowed to just talk. And he was sure he needed the distraction more than anyone else here. So just keep talking about terrible Slurpee-esque beverages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He focused on that hard enough that he walked right into a door. He hissed, shaking his head and staring. It was a set of double doors, more gates than anything, arching high above his head. It seemed to be tinted blue. In fact, everything seemed to be tinted blue. And his team was frozen in place around him, not moving or breathing or blinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon Freeman.” And there was someone right behind him. Gordon stopped talking (how long had he been talking about coolattas with a stranger listening?) and turned around. There was a man standing there, with perfect posture in a sharply pressed suit. Two massive, feathery black wings folded nearly behind his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” Gordon said awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is good to see you and your companions in such good spirits. I’d offer to shake your hand, but it seems you’re a little… lacking, in that department now, hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Gordon said distantly. “Hang on, I think I can still…” He tried to move his hand. He barely felt the pain shooting from his wrist; that was a good thing, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re only going to injure yourself further.” The suited man warned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna die anyways.” Gordon said with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows? I realize the indiscretion of having a conversation at a time like this, but… I felt it was important to… talk to you properly before you go any further.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok-Okay. What have you d- What is happening?” Gordon asked, looking around at the frozen world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The… ‘Space Jam’ has the potential to spread far beyond the bounds of this castle, with consequences much… grander than you could comprehend. You’ve already faced impossible odds, and your prospects going forward will only grow slimmer, and slimmer. There are some who would say that surrender is your only choice at this point, but… I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed, Mr. Freeman. I have stood to the side in conflicts of even greater importance than this and I have… paid the price for my indecision. I do not wish to repeat my mistakes. Which is why I will continue to offer you my support, as will, my associates, but the onus of survival, ultimately rests upon you. We’ll talk again soon enough but, until then, I wish you the best of luck in these… dire, circumstances.” He turned as if about to walk away, and Gordon realized with a start that those giant wings were clipped. The man paused, glancing back over his shoulder at Gordon. “Oh, and… make sure no harm comes to my… progeny, will you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah.” Gordon said, not really knowing who he was talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man nodded in acknowledgement. “You have a long way to go, Mr. Freeman. As for me… This is where I get off.” And with that, he vanished, the world unfreezing and snapping back to its normal colors. Gordon sucked in a breath, staring where the suited man had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Why are you just standing there?” Bubby questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s dangerous up ahead, Gordon, but we do... need to get a move on.” Coomer insisted, worry evident in his tone. Gordon hadn’t been facing that direction the last half-second, and he clearly wasn’t up to turning around so quickly in his current state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Yeah.” Gordon said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with you, man.” Benrey said, pushing Gordon a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stared at him. “Die. Die. Die.” Coomer started punching Benrey, to show support. “Die.” Gordon added one more time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- are you good?” Bubby asked, lighting a fire just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t kill him. Mmm. Let’s go. Gotta be close.” Gordon said. “Open the way!” He shouted, pushing the gates open. He didn’t know what was going on anymore. He doesn’t think he ever was really sure about that. But he knows these doors lead somewhere else, so why not step through?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. THE HEAP</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Look, Gordon! A revolving door- help me, Gordon!” Coomer whined, the door grinding to a halt and trapping Coomer against a wall. Seriously, who builds a set of dramatic gates like that and puts a revolving door right behind them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate these damn things.” Bubby grumbled, getting in and pushing at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not in danger.” Gordon said, stepping in to try and get the door moving again. “Oh how the fuck does this work- why is it electric!?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby shrugged. “Break through this.” He advised, kicking through the glass. “We don’t need glass.” He added as the revolving door began to spin backwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon hissed in alarm, gritting his teeth. Because spinning was definitely what he needed right now. He leaned against an intact pane of glass with a miserable groan. He could see a horde of zombies right outside, and decided he would sit this fight out. “It’s makin’ me sick! Makin’ me sick!” He sung, spinning in a slow circle as everyone else got out to tear apart the zombies, seeming to forget Gordon as they charged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few revolutions, his eyes widened as he recognized Benrey lying limp just outside the door. Cackling with delight, he scrambled towards the body. “YES! YESSSSS!” He screamed, gesturing happily towards Benrey’s limp form. He had a second or so longer of pure bliss before he noticed that Benrey was trying to stay still and not burst into laughter. “Why- I’m not gonna- I shouldn’t get excited, he’s not dead.” He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What no I’m dead.” Benrey said insistently. He readjusted so he was flopped over more dramatically. Gordon was spared having to think of a reply, as the ground right next to Benrey exploded. Gordon barely had the reflexes necessary to duck into the relative safety of the revolving door, the walls and a surviving pane of glass shielding him from the high-speed splatter of rocks and dirt. “Yo what the fuck.” He heard Benrey say in the distance, sounding hurt more emotionally than physically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon pulled himself back up, supporting himself with the wall outside and ready to throw himself back into the castle in case of another explosion. He could hear a loud droning noise overhead, and he looked up to see what it was. ...No. No way. He had to be hallucinating, right? Had somebody really flown a helicopter into Black Mesa and its weird little Space Jam dimension thing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked and sounded real. And if it was real, then the pilot was either stuck here with them or could carry them out (and really, Gordon was about ready to call it quits if there was a chance of getting his ass to a hospital right now, encouragement from mysterious time-freezing winged men aside). No harm in adding to the team at this point. Gordon stumbled away from the wall, shouting and waving his arms to try and signal that there were living humans stuck down here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His only warning was a blur of blue in the corner of his eye before Benrey slammed into him. Before Gordon could process what the hell was happening, Benrey was holding him under one arm and sprinting away as an explosion rocked the ground where Gordon had been standing seconds before. Oh. Helicopters bad. Benrey ran with an agility and speed Gordon hadn’t expected of him, carrying Gordon into a tunnel nearby. Gordon could still hear the helicopter overhead, but no more explosions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them sat there for a moment, both processing how quickly Gordon could have died back there. “...Who the hell flies a helicopter into the castle and tries to blow up the first people they meet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged. “I don’t think there was anybody actually piloting that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? I don’t know a whole lot about helicopters, but I think they don’t have those windows in the front if they’re unmanned...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. “Anyways. Thanks for saving my life-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha?” Benrey’s confused face suddenly split into a grin as realization hit. “Yo, I did that! I saved your life, what’s up!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head. He realized suddenly that Benrey still had an arm wrapped around him, and carefully removed the limb of the bloodsucking monster from around his torso as he stood. “Yeah, you did that, great job. But I’m not forgetting that you tore my wrist open. Saving my life doesn’t mean much if you’re the reason I’m going to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey smacked his lips, apparently deep in thought. “You’d feel better if you finished drinking.” He said, biting into his own arm before offering the bleeding limb to Gordon. Gordon backed up, taking a stake out (he didn’t trust his axe enough for accuracy or speed in this case). Benrey blinked, not taking the threat seriously. Maybe that was because of how clearly empty it was, how helpless Gordon was to actually stop Benrey if the vampire just decided to force-feed him blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Benrey didn’t try anything. He just shrugged, wandering further down the tunnel. “Dunno why you’re making such a big deal about this. It’s not like it hurts for very long. But you’re still all mlehh, blehh, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanna </span>
  </em>
  <span>be a cool sexy vampire…” Benrey’s voice trailed off as he realized Gordon wasn’t following him. He looked back. “Uh. Gordon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was fairly far behind at this point. He was still moving, at least. One hand on the tunnel wall, one held with his wrist against the cleanest part of his shirt left, as if to keep in blood long lost or keep out filth that had already worked its way into the wound. He noticed Benrey watching. “You just… keep going. I’ll catch up to everyone else eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Benrey said simply. He walked back to Gordon, picking him up again. Without the pressure of a helicopter hellbent on killing both of them, Benrey opted to just sling the vampire hunter over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (with Gordon too startled to raise much objection). This might have worked better if Gordon wasn’t significantly taller than Benrey, his face dangling uncomfortably close to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon struggled for a moment, but Benrey’s grip was strong, and he didn’t seem bothered by Gordon’s cursing and angry flailing. It was a couple minutes of walking before it really sunk in that there wasn’t much point in struggling. Benrey wasn’t going to drop him, Benrey wasn’t currently trying to eat him, and there wasn’t much he could do if that changed. He stopped fighting, still pretty pissed off but expressing it only through an angry glare Benrey didn’t even see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How far ahead is everyone?” Gordon asked. He was starting to get nervous about his team; even though, in all likelihood, he was in far more danger than them just from being close to Benrey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey shrugged. “Close. Why do you want to die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused, thrown off balance by the shrug, the sudden subject change, and the question all at once. “I don’t? I just don’t want to be a vampire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? You get to be really fast, and strong, and turn into a bat, and become very sexy, and be immortal… is it the blood? Gordon’s afraid, afraid of a little human bean juice? There’s enough for us both if you stretch it out a bit, don’t even need to kill anyone if you’re not careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that immortality is that great of a deal.” Gordon said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey blinked. “Wha? Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean… death kinda puts a limit on what you can do with your life, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? That’s part of why being immortal is cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not finished. You can’t do everything in the world with the time you have, so you have to pick and choose from your options, right? So you have to decide what’s important to you, what really matters. You make yourself under that pressure. And maybe immortality is a good deal for you, but I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have to worry about making the most of my time. If my days weren’t numbered, I don’t know if I would bother keeping track of them. ...Also, the blood thing creeps me out.” Gordon added, seeing Benrey’s expression and deciding to keep the vampire happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were nearing the end of the tunnel at this point, the dim light visible at the exit. Benrey laughed, but more quietly than Gordon had come to expect. “Vampires can still… can still die. Just not as easy. It’s discount immortality, fucking ripoff. Maybe someone gets hired to kill you. You can still have your ‘whuuuhhh, I’m gonna DIE and that’s what makes my life MATTER for some fucking reason’ moments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I wish I could say I was sorry that I’m going to kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Huh? You can’t kill me, I’m immortal.” Benrey said, sounding confused as he carried Gordon out the tunnel, into the bottom of a ravine. “Weren’t you paying attention?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon was spared having to respond when something hit the ground hard in front of them. Gordon cried out, expecting an explosion. “Oh cool what’s up.” Benrey said calmly, dropping Gordon on the ground. Gordon turned and tried to scramble to his feet, finally realizing there wasn’t an explosive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, hello, Gordon! Hello Benrey!” Coomer said cheerfully. There was a deep gash in his shoulder, though it was sealing up quickly. “I believe we have finally subdued that wretched helicopter heap!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The… the what, exactly?” Gordon asked, not sure he had heard Coomer correctly. He heard something whirring to life in the distance, a mechanical sound that grew louder and louder with every second. Gordon covered his ears, faintly hearing Coomer’s vaguely irritated “Oh, dear.” over the din. There was something rising in the air, slightly dented and on fire but regenerating quickly. Bubby hung from the landing skids, screaming at the top of his lungs as Tommy flew just beneath a whirling storm of blades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon’s jaw dropped as he stared at the rising monstrosity of screeching metal. “...WHAT ON GOD.” He finally managed to scream, barely audible above the banshee scream of the helicopter heap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God had nothing to do with this, Gordon!” Coomer declared, taking a running leap and launching himself up to the heap. Thankfully, nobody makes helicopters out of silver. Blood sprayed through the air as the countless blades slashed at the werewolf, but Coomer hardly seemed to notice or care as his wounds healed instantly. He bit into the metal for a better grip, his hands occupied with tearing off chunks of the heap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey turned into a bat and flew up to join him, leaving Gordon alone. Gordon was about to retreat back into the tunnel, reasoning that there was pretty much nothing helpful he could do here. Before he could do that, the helicopter heap started firing. Bullets and explosives burst from the heap, flying in every direction. The overwhelming firepower of thousands of helicopters jammed together was mitigated a bit by how much of it ended up hitting the uncontrollably spinning heap instead. But plenty of it made it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer flinched for the first time since Gordon had met him, but he hung on. Tommy simply folded his wings and dropped out of range, grabbing Bubby on his way down. Benrey wasn’t as lucky, hit right in the face as he flew towards the heap. Something sailed right over Gordon’s head, falling into the tunnel and exploding. Gordon turned and watched in horror as the option of running away, previously a very favorable choice, crumbled and collapsed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked around wildly for shelter. Behind, rubble, and ahead, the heap, the ground rising sharply on either side. “Keep it up!” He shouted at Coomer, for lack of anything to do but cheer the werewolf on. But as he watched, he realized in horror that every bit Coomer tore off was replaced within seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to get out of here!” Bubby screamed. Tommy hadn’t managed to slow his fall before hitting the ground, and was limping. Bubby supported him, the two of them scrambling their way up to higher ground, taking a path Gordon hadn’t noticed up the steep sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, we need to move, right now!” Coomer cried out, leaping off the side of the helicopter heap. He landed on his feet, scooping Gordon up and hauling him up the side of the ravine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Yeah, I think so!” Gordon yelled. The heap stopped firing, and began to tilt. Gordon screamed as the heap slammed into the ravine wall way too close for comfort. The impact shook the earth, sending clumps of dirt and rocks cascading onto his team. He slipped slightly from Coomer’s grip, finding his face right next to the heap. A lock of hair fell in front of his face, and he watched a blade slice right through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heap pulled out of the wall, blades bent and metal punctured where it had made impact, but regenerating fast. And then the world shuddered. Gordon fell as space shattered and melted around him, hearing the others calling out in panic. As Gordon tumbled, he struggled to orient himself; when he looked down, he didn’t seem to be getting closer to the ravine floor, and when he looked up, he was getting further and further away from the only other living beings in this place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if that wasn’t bad enough, the heap began to dive. The screaming, churning metal plummeted faster and faster, catching up quick. The blades spun in every direction imaginable and a few directions that weren’t, the fuselages rotating faster as if in excitement. Out of all the ways Gordon had imagined dying, this was right at the bottom of the list. He closed his eyes, hoping it would at least be quick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hit the ground. Though it was a bit too slow to be considered hitting the ground; he had been falling, and then he wasn’t, speed reduced to zero in an instant without any messy side effects. He lay there for a moment, face-down, heart pounding. It was quiet. After the heap, the silence was deafening. Was he dead?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone poked him. “Is he good?” Bubby asked cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon groaned, lifting his head. Tommy gasped in delight. “Mr. Freeman! You’re okay! We saw you and- and the heap disappear faster than a… than a shrimp being eaten by an eel!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heap’s gone? No more heap for Gordon?” Gordon asked, daring to hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No heap, Gordon!” Coomer said, helping Gordon off the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed in relief. “My ears thank the world, the god that took those men away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, if I was to talk to a God, I would say… that probably wasn’t in his plan.” Bubby said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does God have a plan? For us?” Gordon asked quietly. He’d reappeared mostly up the ravine wall, but there was still a bit left to go. At least he could make his way up without the pressure of the heap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh… I hear he usually does. I don’t think regenerating helicopters was in it.” Bubby said with a shrug, following Benrey further up the path. Because of course Benrey was okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a man in a suit…” Gordon mused, mostly to himself. Was that guy an angel or something? But his wings were clipped. Fallen? He didn’t seem like a demon. Gordon shook his head. He’ll figure it out later. “So, is that, like… do you think that was Space Jam… product?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was some sort of jam, that’s for sure!” Coomer said, picking up Gordon by his vest to carry him over some rocks in the path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helicopter jam, my favorite!” Bubby chirped, scrambling up to the top. “...Uugh, there’s water up here.” Gordon perked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Water?” He was so, so thirsty. And that was mostly craving for blood, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have some fresh, clean water. What he had brought with him had run dry quite a while back. “Coomer, can you just… can you just throw me up there? Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-Wait, I don’t think that’s safe-” Tommy interjected, but not before Coomer had already taken Gordon and hurled him upwards. Gordon went flying over the rim of the ravine, landing in a container of liquid shallower than he expected. The others joined him one by one, climbing into the container. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey had some blood smeared across his face. His own, Gordon could smell, as he tried not to think about how he had developed the ability to distinguish blood by smell. “Drink up, BUDDY.” Benrey said, smiling as he noticed Gordon staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not thirsty.” Gordon lied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thirsty!” Coomer said truthfully, though he thankfully didn’t go for Benrey’s face, sitting down and sticking his face in the knee-deep liquid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed, closing his eyes in exhaustion. “Benrey, Benrey. What can I do-” He cut himself off when he realized how much stronger the smell of blood had gotten. He opened his eyes to see Benrey’s face just inches from his own. Benrey made a kissing noise, grinning. “...Did you just try to kiss me?” Gordon said incredulously, preferring that response to the growing urge to start biting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? You good man?” Benrey said, tilting his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey, you’ll just have to kiss him after we leave.” Bubby said firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Save the- save the lovin for later.” Gordon said, gently pushing Benrey away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer looked up, muzzle dripping blue. “You’ll just have to kiss Mr. Freeman AFTER we kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coomer, I believe Benrey is technically already dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel STRONGER, being here?” Tommy interrupted. “This is where they make the Powerade™!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this isn’t, this isn’t water?” Gordon said in surprise. “Does Black Mesa manufacture Powerade tm?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No, it’s not- it’s not Powerade tm, Mr. Freeman! It’s Powerade™!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I said?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I do love a good Powerade™!” Coomer said, resuming drinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could go for some of that.” Gordon muttered. He sat down, using his hands as a cup and delicately sipping the liquid. His eyes widened. The flavor was dull, his thirst not at all lessened, but still… “Oh my god, it is. Holy shit- what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s- it replenishes your electronics.” Benrey said wisely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black Mesa makes all the Powerade™!” Tommy said. “It’s how- It’s where all the funding comes from! For the potions!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Locally made please support us.” Benrey chimed in, nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took another sip, though he knew by now that it wouldn’t help. “Look, I don’t want to sleep in this shit, but I’m really… I just don’t think I can make it past this point. Anyone want to carry me?” Benrey raised his hand. “Coomer, can you carry me?” Gordon added, trying not to look at the vampire. Coomer nodded, not ceasing to slurp the Powerade™ at any point during the motion. Gordon leaned against the container wall. “Can someone… can we have, like, someone on medical watch? Can one of y- if I start convulsing in my sleep, I need you to wake me up. Or… like… do we have anything we can use as a…” He yawned. “Defibrillator, ‘cause I don’t know… if I’m gonna… gonna wake up from this.” Exhaustion overcoming him, adrenaline crashing, Gordon drifted into unconsciousness for his last night stuck between life and undeath.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Darnold Gets His Own Chapter Because I Like Him</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Gordon woke up, he was lying on the floor of a lift, making its way downwards with uncomfortable jolts and shudders. “Hello, Gordon! Welcome back to the realm of the living!” Coomer said. At some point, he had ceased to be a giant bipedal wolf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sat up, fighting a wave of nausea as the lift lurched. “Full moon’s over, huh? How long was I out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A long time, we were worried…” Tommy said sadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sighed. “Well, at least I’m well-rested.” The lift lowered out of the shaft, letting Gordon see exactly what they were getting into. It seemed to be a laboratory of some kind, cluttered with massive books on desks and glowing liquids in glass bottles. There were a few skulls lying around for decorative purposes, though placed well out of the way of active work. There was only one door leading out, heavily barricaded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was someone standing at one of the desks, back to the lift. “Hmmm… Let’s see… nineteen… twenty…” Gordon slowly stood up as the figure counted, trying to get a better look. He was wearing a black robe, embroidered and flowing in a way that would have been more dramatic without the bottom hemmed to minimize the risk of tripping and the sleeves rolled up as he carefully poured something into a bottle. “Twenty-THREE unique flavors!” He said triumphantly, turning around. “Oh, I can’t wait to show them all this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck is he saying?” Gordon muttered. This guy seemed… weirdly familiar somehow? He was very clearly undead, and not as well-preserved as a vampire, though the areas of exposed bone seemed too precisely defined to be the unintentional result of rot. Very deliberate, very much meant to accentuate an aesthetic. His face was entirely intact (save for a tasteful splotch of exposed jawbone), and Gordon realized with a start where he recognized him from. This was the third person from the picture in the kitchen, standing with Benrey and Forzen. “Hey!” Gordon said, waving as the lift came to a stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” The guy said, sounding a bit startled and confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s- How’s it goin’?” Gordon said, stumbling off the lift and over to the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What-who-who are you? What is al- What is this shit?” Gordon asked, gesturing to the contents of the desk he was gripping for support. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Darnold.” Darnold said, carefully moving some delicate-looking flasks of volatile-looking fluids away from Gordon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. ...Hey, aren’t you the one who fucked up?” Gordon questioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold frowned. “Well, that’s a little rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah how could you say that. You said you were going to be nice to Darnold, remember?” Benrey said, heartbroken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s- mm. That’s true. I did say that. I’m very sorry, Darnold, can we take this from the top?” Gordon said. Darnold frowned, but made the mistake of glancing over at Benrey. Benrey didn’t attempt to hypnotize him, and didn’t need to. One pleading glance was enough to get Darnold to cave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Again, I’m Darnold, and I’m a lich and a mixologist!” Darnold reached out for a handshake, then paused. “What happened to your hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon used his still-working hand to silently point at Benrey. “Yeah, YOU fucked up.” Benrey cackled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold frowned, gently taking Gordon’s arm for a better look. “Is that- is that some green in there I see?” He muttered. He stepped back, looking Gordon up and down. “...Are you still alive?” He questioned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a moment to think about it. “Yeah! Somehow! I drank some of Benrey’s blood after he bit me, but not a whole lot!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long has it been since that happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know! How long has it been, a day? A day and three hours, give or take?” Gordon glanced at the others, hoping they would know how close his estimate was. He got a frown from Bubby, an enthusiastic nod from Coomer, and a shrug from Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold perked up. “Oh, I should write that down! You’ve made a new record, I think!” He grabbed the nearest notebook and started writing as Gordon watched despairingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Good to know that I should be dead by now!” Gordon hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold nodded. “Yep! Lucky for you, though, I’ve been working on a top-secret project. A potion!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t just the Powerade™?” Tommy said, awestruck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! I’ve been working more on studying… you know how the process of becoming a lich requires you to store your soul somewhere outside your body? I’ve been working on a way for people to do that separate from the process of becoming a lich. Immorality for anyone who owns anything sturdier than a human body! Of course, we’ve hit a few glitches in the process. If you haven’t noticed.” Darnold added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you did cause the Space Jam!” Gordon yelled. “Dude! Do you know how many- the fucking- we’re surrounded by zombies! I’m a vampire hunter! This isn’t in my job description, I’m not qualified for this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold frowned. “It’s not like I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely </span>
  </em>
  <span>responsible. And besides, this is all fixable. Sometimes research is risky, Mister… I don’t know what your name is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman, Gordon Freeman. These are my compatriots, Bubby, Coomer, Tommy, and… I’m not going to introduce Benrey, you know Benrey. I don’t know if he’s even here anymore, I wasn’t watching him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found a torrent of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas on this computer.” Benrey accused, standing in front of a computer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s about to delete all your files.” Gordon said warningly, but Darnold shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you seed that for me, please?” Darnold asked. Benrey nodded, mumbling something about exe crack. “Anyways. You’re very lucky that you made it here in time, Mr. Freeman, because I’ve developed a top-secret, Powerade™-funded, extreme, delicious, potion of not-being-a-vampire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I named it.” Benrey volunteered, sounding very proud of himself. He started downloading something on the computer that didn’t look like GTA.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It only works after you’ve had vampire’s blood, but before you’ve had enough to complete a transformation. Fixes up blood loss as well.” Darnold continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need that! Please! Gordon’s out of blood, Gordon needs potion!” Gordon gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would give you some, but I decided to see what would happen if I mixed the potion with vampire’s blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon wailed miserably. “Why!?” In the background, Coomer wandered over and sat on a barrel in the corner, kicking his legs idly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t expect anyone would need it. I still have the result though, and its properties are </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely </span>
  </em>
  <span>unknown! So, you might as well try it and we’ll see what happens to you. ...Please don’t sit on the potion.” Darnold said as he turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon’s jaw hit the floor. “That’s the potion?” He asked. Coomer hopped off quickly, his momentum having unintended consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, ya knocked it over!” Benrey shouted, voice bubbling with barely-suppressed laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya knocked the damn potion!” Darnold said, scowling and struggling to keep it from turning into a grin as he righted the barrel. (“Touched the damn potion” Benrey echoed, tone full of mocking disapproval.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you telling me I gotta- is that full!?” Gordon yelped in disbelief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to put it in beakers, but I only had three. And.. they all melted. When I put the potion in them. So I guess that is, actually, one property of the potion we know.” Darnold said as he picked up the barrel. “But this is okay!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come now Gordon. Aren’t you thirsty?” Coomer said encouragingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for this, man!” Gordon hissed, eyeing the barrel warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold sighed. “So I’ll just hold-” He cut himself off as Bubby grabbed the barrel and pulled himself up to sit on it. Darnold held the barrel for about a second longer, stunned by confusion, before dropping it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I just had to.” Bubby apologized, standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold shrugged. “It’s okay. It’ll need to be sat on several more times before it can explode. Now,” He said, picking the barrel back up and turning to Gordon. “You HAVE to drink the entire thing. I’m holding it at the proper potion sipping angle, so break out your Black Mesa Official Silly Straw, and get to slurpin’, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What do you mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What flavor is it?” Tommy asked, interrupting Gordon’s more-important question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen. Okay. Hey, I need to get something across before you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s brown flavor!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Before you ask me any questions about this! One, I don’t have my passport, two, I don’t have a Black Mesa silly straw, three, I don’t know anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t even have his silly straw.” Coomer said sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey’s eyes widened. “Oh I didn’t give him one?” He started rummaging in the pockets of his puffy vest, now quite shredded by his many deaths, presumably in search of an intact silly straw that hadn’t fallen out by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold sighed. “We can work with this. I’m holdin’ it- I’m still holdin’ it at the proper angle, so just put your mouth on it, and get to… suckin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon knows how to suck and he does it well.” Benrey (jeered? complemented? Gordon had no clue), grinning wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon turned, glaring at Benrey. “Don’t you tell me what I know about suckin’, buddy! I’ll suck-” Gordon was cut off by a nonsensical sequence of mocking noises. He rolled his eyes, turning back to the potion and Darnold. “Fuck it! I’m gonna suck!” He put his mouth on the barrel’s opening, and the world went dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Darnold chanted. That, alongside the excited chatter from the others filling the room and the feeling of liquid rushing down his throat, was the only indication to Gordon that he was still alive. He gulped it down as fast as he could, the burning need to consume drowning out all other thought. The taste was overwhelming, sweet and bitter and salty with the metallic flavor of blood punching him right in the face; it disgusted and repelled him as much as it drew him in and forced him to continue drinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world was still completely dark. Gordon couldn’t see, could only feel his teeth and his stomach and the blood- the potion- the barrel. He could tell exactly how much was left. Far too much. Far too little. His teeth ached. His hand burned. Splotches of brown began to appear in his vision, almost imperceptible against the blackness. Then spots of green. Then, most colors, popping in so fast they quickly became overwhelming. Gordon screamed. His teeth screamed, his hand was on fire. Gordon was on fire. The colors blurred and blended into white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could still hear the people around him. He could barely make out words, but he could hear the tones shift from excited to confused to afraid. “Is he okay? Does he normally look like this?” Darnold asked, and Gordon barely registered that he had said anything. Almost no potion left. His heart hurt. It thudded in his ears, far too fast then far too slow again. Moving blood like it mattered. No potion left. His hand ached. His teeth burned. He sunk them into the barrel, feeling the wood splinter and break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teeth were on fire, his hand screamed, Gordon died, Gordon lived, the bright-white-i’m-not-alright burst like a paint-soaked cocoon and Gordon found himself lying on the floor, retching and gasping. There were splinters in his mouth. There was something growing in his hand. Everyone was clustered around him, Benrey’s eyes flashing useless calm-down-blue like twin strobe lights. “DEAR GOD! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HIS-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?” Bubby interrupted Coomer. Gordon struggled to get up. Left arm on the ground, pushing up. Right arm too heavy. Benrey was approaching. Benrey was close, Benrey was closer, Benrey was TOO FUCKING CLOSE-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stake shoved right through Benrey’s heart with enough force to pull him off the ground. On one end, it stuck several inches out of Benrey’s body, and the other end trailed back down to Gordon’s right arm. Gordon slowly pulled himself up off the ground. Everything seemed sharper, more clear. He could clearly hear every heartbeat in the room, smell the blood rushing through each individual vein and pick out each drop by its owner, but the scent brought no hunger. He felt stronger and more steady than he had felt even before he entered Black Mesa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He supposed this would all be really cool once he had gotten used to it, but right now it was way too much to handle. He winced, leaning against a desk. The stake jutting through Benrey slowly retracted, shrinking and melding back into the wood coating Gordon’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed that until now. He stared at it, confused. The sleek cone coated his hand, wrist, and a good chunk of his forearm, splitting at the end into five tubes. “You told me this would regenerate my hand. What is this?” He asked, looking at Darnold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that what your hand looked like before?” Darnold questioned innocently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head, showing Darnold his left hand. “No, it looked like this one. Mirror it. To look like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno what you’re talking about, Darnold did a good job.” Benrey mumbled, wandering back over to the computer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Hey, didn’t I </span>
  <em>
    <span>just stab you-</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s exactly how I remember it.” Coomer interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do some physical therapy to get you used to your new hand.” Darnold said, steering the conversation away from the topic of Benrey. “Can you try just… squeezing your hand, and making a punch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon could still sort of feel his hand, somewhere deep in the wood coating. Given how painful it was to move before that, he didn’t really want to try again. On the other hand, he might as well see if the potion had actually done any healing there, right? When he squeezed, he couldn’t feel his hand move at all. What he did feel was the recoil as a length of wood rocketed out of one of the tubes, striking the stone floor hard enough to crack it. He jumped back with a shout of surprise, as did just about everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, Gordon! Be careful! Trigger discipline!” Coomer scolded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This really is just like your hand!” Darnold said triumphantly. “You just fired your fingernails from your fingertips! As people normally do!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No? Right? No? Please back me up, no!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your fingernails have grown pretty fast.” Tommy noted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and they’re made of wood! This is fucked up!” Gordon said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it is a little fucked up, but your fingernail effectiveness </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>been increased by ten thousand percent.” Darnold mused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon groaned. He walked to the reinforced exit, banging his head against the door before just leaning against it in exasperation. He could hear the muffled sounds of zombies outside. He held his wooden arm up, twisting it gently while using his other hand to support its weight. This’ll certainly be an interesting story to tell if he makes it out alive. The thought is enough to give him a little more strength. He’s no longer actively dying, he has a weapon, and he has a shot at surviving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed, pushing himself off the door. “That’s gonna do us. I’m no longer helpless. Thank you, Darnold. Our friend over there- no, not our friend, our fucking assailant over there is messing with your torrents, you should probably take care of that.” He said, gesturing to Benrey with a hiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GREAT FRIEND.” Benrey retorted, sticking his tongue out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ve downloaded World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King.” Darnold realized, looking over at Benrey and his computer. “Delete that, really. Delete that right fucking now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO. I wanna fight the lich king, with the saronite bombs for my dps rotation. Gonna get WORLD FIRST.” Benrey pounded the table for emphasis, knocking a bottle over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no. You put potions on my computer.” Darnold said despairingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey winced, wiping up the worst of the spill with his hands. “This… this makes the game run faster.” He said hopefully. “I downloaded more RAM for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the next flavor of Powerade™?” Tommy asked, diverting everyone’s attention from Benrey’s sad attempts to clean up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold smiled mischievously. “Well… I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m working on an </span>
  <b>evil </b>
  <span>flavor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, evil?” Gordon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not important right now.” Darnold said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>important, is that I can’t use my computer anymore. Which means I can’t do </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>more research.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s just a gaming computer now.” Benrey insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually. Where are you guys going?” Darnold asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I don’t know? I’m just hoping the opportunity will come up soon to, I don’t know, stop the Space Jam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s fun. I haven’t had much luck trying to reverse it from in here. Maybe stepping outside would do me some good, let me step back and take another look at the problem, you know? I believe I will come along with you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shit, okay!” Gordon said, pleasantly surprised. “Darnold joining the crew? Alright!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold smiled, walking over to a stack of crates against the wall. “I have two crates full of mystery gadgets, if you want to take a look. I don’t know if any of them are good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh!” Bubby said in delight. He walked over, reaching into a crate and pulling out a gun. “Oh, my.” He purred. “What is this!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so Bubby, you found a cool… space-looking gun.” Gordon commented. “Try it out! Shoot at that wall over there!” Bubby obliged, grinning, and Gordon watched him disappear in a flash of green light. “...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Bubby!” Coomer exclaimed. Darnold sighed, suddenly sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I forgot. That used to belong to Forzen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey blinked. “Oh yeah! Forzen’s back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really!? I knew the Space Jam incorporated some necromantic component, obviously, but Forzen’s here again!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YEAAAAHH!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s- That’s amazing! Where is he!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey suddenly frowned. “Uhhhhh maybe we’ll. Run into him. Later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon tried to get their attention back. “Yeah, we can unpack that can of worms later. Where the hell did Bubby go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the gun may have eaten him.” Coomer pondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, we’re down one member, so I guess Darnold is the new Bubby.” As Gordon said that, Bubby reappeared, screaming at the top of his lungs and with a metal plate over half his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Bubby!” Coomer said, unfazed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon ran over. “What the hell was that? Where did you go? Are you a cyborg now!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby shook his head, peeling the metal off to reveal his face was still intact. “Obviously not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It projects a shield of cold to help me hide from the skeletal crocodile mermaid demons. Do you know how hard it is to avoid anything with heat vision when you’re made of fire confined in human skin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget it. I refuse to talk about it any more. I don’t want to ever think about what I just did.” Bubby said, muttering something under his breath about the correct timeline as Coomer pulled a massive gun out of the crate. Coomer shrugged, silently tossing the gun away and flexing. Tommy’s eyes widened in delight as he pulled a propeller cap out of the crate, putting it on immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if everyone’s ready, should we go?” Gordon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, yes.” Darnold chirped as Coomer began pulling apart the barricades on the exit. “This’ll be so exciting! We can get strong, and box, and climb up ladders and fly kites, and get strong, and fly kites! Come on, let’s go forward, Mr. Freeman! LET’S GO FORWARD!” As Coomer tugged at the last barricade, about to pull it loose, a bolt of crackling magical energy slammed into the door, tearing right through it and ricocheting down the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” Gordon said, flinching back. He poked his head out the gaping hole in the door, staring out. Scorch marks marred the walls where the blast of magic had hit, and Gordon could see three zombies sprawled on the floor, still smoking. “Damn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold looked a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I got a little too excited there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize, man! That was… I wish we had you with us before, we would have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if their pace over the next few hours was any indication, Gordon was right. With the addition of Darnold to the team, they had enough raw firepower to take out any threat with ease. And Darnold’s having a pretty good time! Bubby had warmed up to him pretty quickly, and they had each other’s backs when they got tired. Coomer had been delighted at the realization that he now had an immortal boxing partner, and they’d had a few sparring matches between facing packs of zombies. Tommy was just happy to meet someone to talk about soda with, and Gordon’s clear appreciation of Darnold’s power was nice to hear. Darnold had decided he liked all these people! Which did bring up an important question…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I’m not going to eat them.” Benrey said. They were sitting on the roof of the castle, flying some kites they had found. Below, Coomer was egging Gordon on to find out if his new arm could, in theory, be used as a grappling hook, as Bubby and Tommy watched in anticipation of success or severe injury. “Why would you think I’d eat them, that’s mean.” Benrey pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did already try it with Gordon.” Darnold pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey scoffed. “Just a little nibble. Trying to help him out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it did work out in the end?” Darnold said with a shrug. “I’m worried though. We’re all getting along well, but… something’s not right. The Space Jam is a lot more active than I predicted, and the effects are far more intense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey tensed. “Uh. So remember that thing I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may have done it three more times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Benrey, you have to destroy them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just. It’s safer this way. You’ve done it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s different. I did things exactly as they were done by people who wrote down how to do it without breaking reality. What you’re doing now isn’t sustainable. Maybe we can go back to the drawing board when this is all over, start over and try again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to die, Darnold.” Benrey said, putting down the kite string. “And you won’t make me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold opened his mouth to respond, and the world suddenly shuddered. He felt himself falling, the world fading to black as it disappeared above him. He could hear distant shouting, but he was too far already to tell what was happening with everyone else. He felt time warp like something hooking around him, tugging him back. At the same time, he felt himself being pulled forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He floated there, paralyzed, pulled back and forth like a rope in a game of tug-o-war. He lurched forward, and the world burst into existence again, jam-packed with light and sound and skeletons and holy shit, was that really </span>
  <em>
    <span>Benrey- </span>
  </em>
  <span>and without warning, Darnold was pulled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer cried out in triumph as he pulled the last barricade off the lab door. Gordon charged, testing out his stake hand. Darnold jumped back in surprise; not at the wood that shot out from Gordon’s hand, piercing through a zombie and snaking around to stab another, but at the realization of how far back he’d gone. Every time he’d felt the Space Jam warp time, it had been seconds, minutes at worst, but never hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, woah, woah! This is too much, Gordon! This is too much!” Darnold shouted. Gordon turned to face him, the two zombies he’d impaled falling off his stake-fingernail as it retracted. Coomer ran in to punch the third one as Darnold tried to calm down. “This is too much… I can’t handle it! Do you even know what I just saw?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon blinked, expression blank. Everyone else looked a bit startled or confused by Darnold’s sudden change of heart. Even Benrey didn’t seem like he knew what was going on. “Three zombies. They’re dead now. Because we killed them.” Gordon said, gesturing to the bodies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The horrors of the apocalypse can break anyone, Gordon. There’s no need to be so heartless.” Coomer scolded. Did they all think Darnold was afraid of the zombies outside? He was afraid, certainly, but more of Benrey. He’d roll with it if it meant he didn’t have to watch Benrey turn into that thing he saw. “No one man can handle the such violence! I’m sorry, I know I was excited to go and fly kites, and get strong, and… get… in boxing matches, but… I’m afraid I have to… cut all ties with you here!” Nobody said Darnold was a convincing liar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That… sucks, but okay.” Gordon said, confused. He may not believe Darnold. That’s fine, he doesn’t need to believe Darnold so long as Darnold is far away when Benrey starts falling apart. Darnold glances at Benrey as he walks towards the lift in the middle of the room. He wants to say something; but what can he say that’ll convince Benrey to turn back? He’s known Benrey since they were both alive. Benrey is stubborn, and Benrey is afraid. No, there’s nothing he can do but hope Benrey sees in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Darnold stands on the lift. “I’ll see you… later.” And he shoots up into the air, flying out of sight. He lands easily on the next floor, starting to walk. He has no clear direction but away, no goal that doesn’t demand fighting his friend. The castle warps as he walks through it; no dramatic bursts now, no shuddering but the ever-present hum of reality slowly unstitching itself. Oh, Benrey, what have you done?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. It's The Final Countdown, dodododo. dododododo.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took a while for Gordon to get used to the potion’s effects. It wasn’t like he was complaining; he was alive, and having some bonus vampire powers left over was hardly a downside! ...Except for the bits where it was. It was cloudy outside today (and Gordon wanted to blame it on the perpetually-gloomy weather of the area, but he couldn’t count out at this point the idea that the Space Jam was keeping the clouds stuck there), but his eyes demanded very little light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes in an attempt to ward off a headache as he emerged from the shelter of the castle. He focused on the thumping rhythm of the stake emerging from and retracting into his arm like some bizarre kind of eel, moving half-consciously and half-instinctually towards the sound of zombies and the vibrations of footsteps. “Who got a kill streak, aHAAH.” Benrey declared right in Gordon’s ear. Gordon jumped, the sharp wood curving around to stab through Benrey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly yanked it right out of the vampire. “Don’t do that.” Gordon muttered, earning a noncommital shrug from Benrey. He opened his eyes, out of fear of stabbing through a less resilient ally. The blurry shapes as his eyes adjusted to the light were better than nothing. He doesn’t want to know what full sunlight will feel like when he gets out of here. Benrey grins at him, cackling and running off. Gordon rolled his eyes, continuing to kill zombies. This arm really is useful, though he kind of misses his axe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As time passed, he started to </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>miss his axe. That didn’t tire out his arm half as much as this did. The general idea behind their movements, everybody agreed, was simple. If they kept moving without looking back, everything they found would be new. Everything new they found could be useful. So if they kept moving, eventually they’d find something useful enough to help them escape. Solid plan, except it required a lot of walking and a lot of killing zombies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After several hours of weaving in and out of the castle, through tunnels and hallways and tightly packed courtyards, Gordon’s arm felt about ready to snap off. He suspects the potion made him stronger, or else he’d have collapsed miles ago. As it is, he’s cradling the wooden arm with the other one, providing backup in the fight against gravity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re inside the castle right now, walking down a long, curving hallway. Gordon’s considering calling it a day and having everyone get some rest. It hasn’t been that long since their last break, and they don’t seem too tired, but Gordon has a bad feeling about this. The zombies have been appearing more frequently, in denser groups, and they’ve come dangerously close to being overwhelmed recently. Best to keep everyone in peak fighting condition; better safe than sorry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to declare this a good place to take a breather when he hears something in the distance. Howling? It’s quiet, but very clear. Is there a dog down here? He looked around at the others, wondering if he’s just hearing things. Bubby didn’t seem to notice. But Benrey seemed suddenly alert (at least, alert by Benrey standards). Coomer tilted his head, listening curiously. Tommy gasped, eyes wide with shock. “That sounds familiar…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby huffed in irritation as Tommy started sprinting. “I’m the only one here with hearing like a human’s, you have to tell me what’s going on!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It sounds like a dog!” Coomer informed Bubby before following Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the rest of the team caught up, Tommy was kicking at a heavy door, Coomer helping out by punching it. “I gotcha.” Bubby said confidently, gesturing for them to stand back. Once Tommy and Coomer were both out of the way, Bubby set the wooden door ablaze. As the wood burned, it collapsed, revealing a dog sitting in the center of a ring of turrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dog howled louder at the outburst of dismayed shouting from Gordon and his team. The dog was huge, Great Dane sized at the very least. It looked more like a golden retriever, but even ignoring the size it was clearly no ordinary dog. The dog’s fur was white, and Gordon had seen retrievers that pale before, but never one with bright red ears or eyes like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO! SUNKIST!” Tommy wailed in horror. “WHAT ARE YOU- WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” Sunkist barked, tail wagging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Sunkist?” Gordon said in disbelief. “...Didn’t you say his howling foretells death!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but only- it only means someone’s going to die! You still hear it if- if Sunkist means somebody else!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s a relief.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you hear Sunkist growling, and he- and if the growling only gets quieter the closer he gets, then probably- you should be worried then!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How to respond to that, Gordon wasn’t sure, but he was spared having to come up with an answer. “WELCOME, again.” A familiar voice shouted. Gordon looked over to see Forzen, a smug grin on his face as he stepped into the circle of turrets with Sunkist. The dog didn’t seem bothered by his presence, tail wagging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let Sunkist go!” Tommy shouted, tears in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you have his dog?” Gordon asked. Forzen opened his mouth as if to answer. He froze, brow furrowing as he struggled to grasp an answer. As Forzen tried to recall why and how he obtained this dog, Gordon began inching closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen snapped to attention. “Do not- DO NOT COME ANY FURTHERRRRR.” He snarled, dragging out that last word for emphasis. “I’m the remaining- I’m the zombies- left!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the last one.” Gordon said, not entirely believing Forzen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, bad news. There is one remaining zombie, and he’s taken Sunkist HOSTAGE!” Coomer declared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen’s eyes brightened. “VIENS PAS PRÈS DU CHIEN SINON JE VAIS LE TUER!” He shouted, waving his arms around triumphantly. Sunkist barked at the sudden movement, licking Forzen on the face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Was that French?” Gordon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not know French, Gordon?” Coomer asked disdainfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon scowled at Forzen. “What do you want!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“JE VAIS TUER LE CHIEN!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, this is French for ‘he’s going to kill the dog’!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want from us, man?” Gordon demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I AM THE REMAINING ZOMBIE-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“LET SUNKIST GOOOO!” Tommy sobbed, openly crying now. Sunkist whined, and would have gone over to Tommy if Forzen hadn’t just grabbed his collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you’re the last remaining zombie, but what did- what do- WHAT?” Gordon hissed, frustrated and afraid that Tommy’s dog would be dead before he got a solid answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen was still struggling with his own reasoning. Finally, he grinned as it came to him. “PLEASE, DISPEL THE RUMOR that Irate Gamer ripped off Angry Video Game Nerd.” He said, confident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon sputtered, laughing in disbelief. “Exc- what!? Ha! What- oh shit! Get the dog! Get the dog!” Forzen had let go of the dog and stepped back onto a platform receding down into the depths of the castle, leaving Sunkist surrounded by turrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll activate the turrets!” Forzen threatened, as Sunkist walked out of the turrets. Not a second too soon, the turrets began firing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you pressed the button too late, the dog’s not in the circle anymore!” Gordon shouted down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AUUUUGH. I… KILL THE DOG!” Forzen shouted as the turrets stopped firing. Sunkist tilted his head at the shouting, walking back into the circle as he went to investigate the noise. He sat where the floor began to slope down, whining and seemingly undisturbed by the surrounding turrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon screamed. “NO! WHAT THE FUCK! T-Tommy, how did you train your dog, he just walked back into the turrets!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, look out! The dog is in the firing line of the turrets!” Coomer said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FORZEN YOU RAT FUCK.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“IRATE GAMER CHRIS BORES DID NOT RIP OFF angry video game nerd JAMES ROLFE. GOOD BYE.” Forzen shouted as he descended further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OKAY! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Gordon yelled as Forzen continued on out of sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT DO YOU WANT?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT DO YOU- oh, this is stupid. Tommy, can you just grab- OH NO!” The turrets began firing again. Gordon shouted in horror as they sprayed bullets at Sunkist… with no apparent effect. Sunkist stood, jumping and snapping at the bullets like he was being sprayed with a hose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the most powerful dog I have EVER seen.” Coomer said in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sunkist lives forever!” Tommy explained. “I was just worried that that would- like- trick- I don’t like seeing him get shot!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you call the dog out of the turrets?” Gordon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. “Sunkist, can you move… two feet to the right?” Tommy asked as the turrets stopped firing. Sunkist barked, leaving the circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, he’s pretty receptive! Alright, cool!” Gordon said. He turned back to where the floor sloped down, the bottom of the shaft hard to see. “Is Forzen still down there? I’m going to go confront him.” Gordon stepped down, the slope steep enough that he could just slide. Coomer followed, opting to instead roll down and pick up an alarming amount of speed as went. Bubby was about to follow, before he noticed Tommy standing forlornly at the top of the slope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy, are you good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I like mean people too much, and that always- it comes back to bite me in the ass. But I can’t- I don’t always know who’s mean before it’s too late. And I don’t want to get it wrong, because I’ve- I’d rather like a mean person than push away a nice person. But sometimes I think I can- I should rethink my priorities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah.” Bubby’s greatest weakness, open discussion of fears and insecurities. He can’t deal with his own, he sure as hell can’t help Tommy. But he should probably say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right? He pats the fae awkwardly on the shoulder. “I think it’s good that you’re nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Incredibly, that seems to actually work a bit. Tommy nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah! I-I took some risks with trusting Benrey and Forzen, and I misjudged them both. But that doesn’t- that doesn’t make the decision to do- to take those risks wrong!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s smile broadened. “Thank you, Bubby. That helps- That helps a lot! Come on, Sunkist, let’s go!” Tommy slid down to join the others, wings spread to control the speed of his fall. Sunkist charged, so confident and sure-footed running downhill that Bubby wouldn’t be shocked if the dog could fly too. Bubby slid down after them, hoping without much confidence that the landing at the end would be soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the bottom, Gordon stared at the tiny gap between the crates sitting at the end of the room. Forzen had opted to hide rather than run away, and to do a little dance rather than stay still. Forzen didn’t stop as Gordon approached. “Hey. Quit showing off your booty. Why did you kidnap the dog?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have one request!” Forzen declared, walking away and squeezing himself further into the gap between crate and wall. Gordon walked around, pointing his stake arm into that gap. The rest of his team jumped up onto the crates, hovering over Forzen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to dispel the lies about Chris Bores, who is that?” Gordon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“CHRIS BORES ANGRY VIDEO GAME- uh- IRATE GAMER.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I don’t know what that is-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Youtube.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the last zombie in this place, and you kidnapped Tommy’s dog… you know what? At this point I think we should probably just kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you won’t. Watch this.” And then Forzen disappeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon blinked, staring at the space where the zombie had been just a second ago. “Uh. How did he do that?” He reached in, waving around to confirm that he really had just disappeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I detect increased strength and instability in the Space Jam! We must be approaching the end of our journey!” Coomer declared, and Gordon tried not to think about what he could mean by that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned, hopping off the crate and walking over to the perfect dog. He knelt down, petting Sunkist. “Sunkist, it’s not safe here. You need to go home.” Sunkist whined, licking Tommy’s face. “Go. Go!” Tommy said, wiping away tears. With a mournful howl, Sunkist leapt into the air, flying up and through the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Knew it.” Bubby muttered under his breath, looking up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kept going. What other choice did they have? Forzen seemed to have been telling the truth about being the last zombie; contrary to Gordon’s expectation of more and larger fights ahead, the hallways were empty. After the chaos of the past few days, the absence of the undead only served to unsettle him. Despite Coomer’s claims of feeling it destabilize further, the Space Jam seemed oddly tame. No, tame wasn’t quite the right word. It was holding back for sure, no sudden shifts in space or skips in time, but it definitely wasn’t tame. It was like some giant beast holding its breath, the tension in a trap ready to spring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey gave off the same feeling. He had gone quiet a while back, trailing behind the rest of the group. Gordon could feel the eyes boring into the back of his neck, observing in uncharacteristic silence. As Gordon reached for a doorknob at the end of a hallway, he could swear he was about to die (for real this time) as time froze. “Gordon Freeman…” The eerie voice and blue tint to the world produced some relief in him, and the fact that it did so was quite the indicator of his current stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want now?” He asked as the suited man stepped into existence in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Freeman! It’s good to see you in such… good… spirits.” The suited man said, grin spreading like molasses across his face. “You are nearing the end of your journey, my friend, as I believe your werewolf has pointed out, and I thought it would be only fitting to-” The suited man cut himself off, mouth agape with shock, as Benrey walked towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about the way Benrey moved was terribly wrong. Space seemed to tear around him, bending and ripping to let Benrey ignore whatever the suited man had done to freeze him. “You have credentials?” Benrey asked, holding his hand out for a passport with a fanged grin. The words carried the weight of a threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh. I…” The suited man murmured. His wings, clipped and useless, fluffed up. Instinct favoring the latter of fight or flight, or a conscious attempt to make himself look larger, neither seemed to be much use. “Uh… they’re in my, other coat- I-If you wouldn’t mind, I’m trying to talk to Mr. Freeman-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I wanna see ‘em though? I wanna have an angel’s passport. Or a demon’s, whichever you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- well, I’m a bit stuck between both- that-that’s really not relevant, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have playstation plus, uh, voucher?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… um… I don’t… know what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just- I’m waiting- I wanna- I wanna get another month, but- i want like, a free trial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right. Mr. Freeman, if you wouldn’t… mind now… is- you have to bear in mind, now, this next leg of your journey, is going to be the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we?” Benrey said, interrupting the suited man’s attempt to get back on track. Something about his tone gave way that he knew exactly where they were. And he didn’t like it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The suited man froze up. He didn’t look at Benrey, turning right back to Gordon. “You- you’ll- you’ll figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bro, add me, what’s your… tag on psn?” Benrey asked as the blue faded, time snapping back to normal. Gordon took a moment to just breathe. Time to just sit there, and breathe, and process that this mysterious suited man (who might be an angel or demon, apparently?) with time-stopping powers was afraid of this random vampire. “Yo, what the fuck, I just wanna play games with people man…” Benrey said sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… me too, I guess?” Bubby said hesitantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey, how did you get over there?” Coomer asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon took a deep breath. He shook his head, reaching for the door he had been about to open before that interruption. “I think I left my- my playstation plus code uh, back there. Somewhere.” Benrey said suddenly, sounding nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stared at him. “Back where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey didn’t answer that. “We should go back and get it. We could- I get a free month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- The only room I want to go into is this one. Coomer, we’re almost at the end of all this, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to put a stop to all of this, and say goodnight to Black Mesa for the final time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, goodnight?” Benrey started walking backwards. “Time to sleep! Oh! Yeah! Bed is over here! Back here! We can’t go in that room. There’s no bed there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon ignored Benrey, and opened the door. Benrey was right. There was no bed. Instead, there was a coffin in the middle of the room, lid ajar. Gordon stepped into the room, careful not to trip over the stack of discs sitting next to a Playstation 4. The room was pitch black, but for the scraps of light filtering through a window long ago boarded shut with curtains drawn, not a ray reaching the coffin. But Gordon’s eyes adjusted unnaturally quickly, and he could see what was on the coffin lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three passports. Bubby’s. Coomer’s. Tommy’s. As Gordon walked up to the coffin, reaching for them, they vanished. He heard a sigh behind him. Benrey. “Told you not to come in here, man.” And the world shattered. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See you all Halloween :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Gordon opened his eyes, he was lying on a large chunk of rock that gently swayed as if caught in a wind. He stared up at the sky, trying to make any sense of what he was seeing. The sky was pitch black, dotted with floating islands made from stone and dirt and chunks of towers. He sat up, very slowly as his island tilted at the movement. Coomer was sitting on the island's edge, legs dangling over the sides as if falling wasn’t a concern. Tommy was there too, sitting further from the edge, wings spread just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching his balance, Gordon stood. “We’re all okay, right? Coomer. Tommy. Where’s Bubby?” Tommy shrugged. Coomer whined quietly; if he had a tail right now, it would be tucked between his legs. Gordon looked around, realizing there was a bigger problem. “Oh, no. Where’s Benrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon lost his balance, sent sprawling face-first to the ground as the island was suddenly pushed away. Benrey laughed as he floated up from where he had been hiding beneath the island. He was giant, one swipe of his hand all it took to nearly knock them all off the platform. He picked up the island, and when he grinned, Gordon saw fangs nearly as tall as he was. “Yo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What’s up?” Gordon said. He took the opportunity to stand, bracing himself as Benrey tilted the island towards his face for a better look. Tommy and Coomer got up as well, finding footholds to keep them steady as Benrey played with the rock. “You look a little… you look kinda big there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been telling you to go back. I don’t know man, you’re not listening to me. Kinda hurts.” Benrey said sadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want us to go back? What is happening? ...Hold on. Hold on!” Gordon said, anger rising as he realized something. “It’s you, man! You did this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey was silent for several seconds, processing. He gasped. “Yo, it’s me! What’s up!” He jerked the island closer to his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come any closer. Stay at that distance.” Gordon warned as if he could do anything about it, pointing his stake arm at Benrey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vampire scoffed, pushing the island away and sending it into a spin. He crossed his arms. “Nooo, man. Why you freakin’ out?” He whined, scowling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Gordon yelled, waving his arms. “Coomer, what do we do?” He asked more quietly, turning towards the werewolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Gordon. I’m scared.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. That was certainly reassuring to hear. Gordon whispered to Tommy instead. “Tommy. Make a run for it, okay, I’m gonna distract him.” Tommy nodded, looking around for something that looked safe to jump to. Gordon turned back to Benrey, smiling. “What’s your, um, favorite- What’s your Playstation three… gamer- gamertag? Do they call it gamertag, I don’t know. I don’t know, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s private information. You shouldn’t be asking that.” Benrey scolded, shaking his head. Tommy edged closer to the end of the island, eyes locked on the next closest one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Gordon didn’t know what to do. He was afraid that if he tried to move, Benrey would start drinking his blood again. And with the size of those fangs, Gordon didn’t want to know what that bite would look like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna kiss?” Benrey asked, suddenly pulling the island close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Gordon screamed. He ran past Tommy, taking a running leap before even seeing where he was going. Gravity seemed lower here, a pleasant surprise that let Gordon actually land on the next island. Tommy and Coomer followed as Benrey smushed his face into the island with a loud kissing noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon froze when he turned to look back; there was a corpse sitting right in front of his feet. Face down, but very familiar-looking. He forced himself to turn his attention back to Benrey, pulling the island off his face. “You could stay there. You could stay there. Over there, man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, come back…” Benrey said, heartbroken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, we could have been great friends… why’d you have to go into my room? Why’d you make me do this?” Benrey started moving closer, effortlessly flying through space. “Hug?” He asked, spreading his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Gordon yelled, again, jumping to the next island. “So! I guess, Bubby, we have to forget about him, because we have more pressing matters on hand!” He said as Tommy and Coomer landed next to him. They were one step ahead of him, jumping into a bisected tower like a dugout canoe as it floated past. Gordon followed, but landed right on the edge. His weight made it tip, and he screamed as it flipped upside down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer grabbed his wrist before he could fall. Gordon dangled above an infinite void below, heart pounding. Coomer and Tommy had wedged themselves inside, clinging to whatever holds they could find in the uneven stones. Tommy winced as a piece of the edge crumbled under his grip, but reached down for Gordon’s other hand, helping Coomer pull him up. They pushed Gordon in between them, holding him in place as they all stared at the void and held on for dear life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I CAN SEE YOU WHEREVER YOU GO, FRIENDS!” Benrey shouted, picking up the tower and tossing it into the air. As the tower tumbled through space, Gordon could see a larger island that seemed to be made from a slice of the castle. He could see the entrances to hallways and rooms that Benrey couldn’t possibly fit in now; there was their chance to hide. He made eye contact with Tommy and Coomer, nodding, before making a break for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braced himself against the wall of the tower, pushing off. He’d misjudged the right time to jump, and realized halfway through that he wasn’t going to make it. “Stop right there, mister Gordon Feeetmaaaaaan!” Benrey cackled, catching Gordon in his hand. Tommy and Coomer sailed overhead, having chosen to jump with a much better angle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon screamed, firing at Benrey with his stake arm. “BACK UP! BACK UP!” It didn’t seem to do much, but Benrey scrunched up his face in discomfort as the wood stabbed at him. Benrey yelped as it caught him in the eye, throwing Gordon away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Gordon!” Coomer cheered as the vampire hunter landed on the large island. Gordon heard the roar of an engine nearby; he turned, seeing a hot rod driving into view, accelerating before promptly turning into Bubby and sliding to a stop a few feet away from the rest of the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What was that? Where have you been? Did you just turn into a car?” Gordon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, we all have our secrets.” Bubby said, standing up and dusting himself off. “I don’t want to be here, so let’s leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I’d like to go home too.” Coomer said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, where do we go from here?” Gordon asked (more thinking out loud than expecting an answer) as he walked inside. This island didn’t tilt as he walked, letting him feel for a moment like any of this was normal. “We can’t just hide forever! Isn’t there something we can do to stop Benrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’re you guys planning?” Benrey asked, sticking his face through the wall. Space bent and warped to allow that, and Gordon could feel it in the way moving became harder as he screamed and ran away. The hallway opened up suddenly, sending Gordon falling into a larger chamber. He took a moment to catch his breath, then stifled another scream as he saw another familiar corpse right next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Gordon! It’s Gordon!” Bubby said, jumping down from the hallway above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s you!” Coomer agreed, jumping down as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shook his head, backing off. “No, no, that’s not me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, you’re the only person I’ve ever seen in that stupid outfit!” Coomer said cheerily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not stupid. Practical.” Gordon muttered, not looking at the body. Focus on the rest of the room instead. It was cavernous, the ceiling almost too high to see and the rounded room large enough to park at least three school buses end to end. There was water (he hoped it was water, it was some kind of liquid at least) ankle deep. Oh. And Benrey was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was lying face down; Gordon had no idea how he had gotten there so quickly, after being in the hallway just a second ago. Gordon shushed the others as Tommy flew down, creeping closer to Benrey. The giant vampire suddenly lifted his head, staring straight at Gordon. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Gordon responded, wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew this was going to happen.” Benrey said. He sounded defeated, disappointed even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What do you mean, you knew this was going to happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey made a noise of frustration. “I’m telling you! Look, I'm… I like everything, I’m a great cool. I feel a good, but you make me angry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why? Because I don’t have a passport to give you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need those! It’s why I hired you all in the first place!” Benrey whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon paused. “Wait, wait, wait. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO HIRED US!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re vampire hunters! Why’d you do that!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I needed your passports! You’re not LISTENING, bro! You have to listen!” Benrey shouted, distressed. “I gotta- it’s good for the Benrey! Like a vitamin! Passport of not die!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even mean!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Passport!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey, what the hell do you want!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to stay! And I want your passport!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FOR THE LAST TIME, I DON’T HAVE MY FUCKING PASSPORT!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey went silent. He lay there, staring at Gordon, for an almost uncomfortable length of time. His eyes slowly began to glow and flash, whirling blue to green. Tommy mumbled “Time to be mean.” just loud enough for Gordon to hear. Benrey grinned, and the world began to shudder, pulsing in time with the flashing of his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My friends are here.” Benrey said triumphantly. The space around the room began to tear, shifting and bulging as something tried to shove through. “These are the people I met online, of when I had Playstation Plus.” Benrey began to lift his head up from the ground, towering above them all. “SONY CEO JACK TRETTON </span>
  <em>
    <span>SURVIVED </span>
  </em>
  <span>A NUCLEAR BOMB!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What?” Gordon wondered aloud. He glanced around in the vain hope that someone would give him context that made this make sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“SONY CEO JACK TRETTON HIRED… a NINTENDO CEO REGGIE AND THEY BUILT A BIG… BOMB THAT WAS GONNA GO OFF…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey, are you just trying to avoid giving me an actual answer-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BUT I SAVED THE </span>
  <em>
    <span>WORLD</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Benrey concluded proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we stop him?” Gordon asked, turning back to his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy shook his head vigorously. “No, no! We need to understand!” Gordon didn’t really think there was anything coherent to understand here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have a big plan!” Benrey said (see? Gordon’s right). “I was supposed to be nice but you forced me to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>so I’m gonna be </span>
  <em>
    <span>baaad.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon laughed in disbelief. “How did I force-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The- the- the- the big plot is slowly unraveling before our eyes, look at this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BBBB.” Reality buckled, holes tearing open as easily as wet paper. Zombies spilled out like noodles from some ill-advised pasta machine, splashing into the shallow water. “BBBBBBB.” Benrey repeated. Space rippled around him, starting to pull and twist at his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What!? What!?” Gordon screamed, scrambling backwards but knowing escape wasn’t likely possible anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WELCOME.” Benrey yelled, voice reverberating and buzzing to the point of being nearly incomprehensible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know what he’s saying anymore.” Gordon mumbled. Benrey began to scream, a wail that made triumph and agony indistinguishable, growing more distorted by the second. The shifted space around him distorted and blurred the shape of Benrey, blotting him out in a smear of red until Gordon couldn’t tell the difference between Benrey’s movements and the dizzying twisting everywhere in his vision. “What’s happening? What is happening?” He asked no one in particular, trying to keep panic from overwhelming him. “What is happening to him!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can feel a change in his DNA!” Coomer howled in despair. Benrey suddenly hauled himself upright, and the space around him burst. If Gordon hadn’t seen him in the same spot seconds ago, he might not have recognized him right away as Benrey. A whirling mass of flesh and fangs, moving less through the action of muscles and more through the rapid dissolution and reformation of limbs closer to his target. Gordon couldn’t keep track of Benrey’s eyes, and thinks he might have grown more, colorful flashes swirling over the vampire’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon screamed, pointing his stake arm at Benrey. A bat wing slashed through the water right next to him, spending a spray into the air. Gordon twisted, firing at the wing as it drew back. The stake punched through the wing again and again, leaving no visible damage at all. “IT’S NOT DOING ANYTHING! OH GOD, THE ZOMBIES! THE ZOMBIES!” The undead swarmed around him, trying to bite him, as Gordon tried to keep them off. Stabbing was the preferred method, but it turned out that just swinging his stake arm around could knock them a good distance back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not far enough. Something reached up and grabbed at Gordon’s ankle, pulling him down. Gordon looked down, seeing the corpse he had left lying on the floor. His own face looked up and him, snarling with fangs set in his mouth. Gordon yelped, kicking at it until it dissolved like it had never been there. “FEEL MY PASSPORT!” Benrey boomed, bat wings spreading wide from his back as he ignored Coomer clinging to and punching one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, help me!” Coomer cried out as he fell, landing in a pile of zombies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are they doing to Coomer?” Tommy wailed, running over with Gordon as the zombies tried to bite the old werewolf (often with jaws knocked away from a punch).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you!” Bubby cheered, sending a wave of fire Coomer’s way. Gordon winced, but Coomer seemed unscathed as the zombies burned. They all sighed in relief, a moment of victory squashed as Benrey slammed his face into the middle of the group, massive fangs sticking into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, come back.” Benrey said sadly as they all scattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where do we go!? What the fuck do we do!?” Gordon panted as he ran. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>fighting a giant regenerating shapeshifting vampire today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A teleporter’s opened up! A portal!” Bubby shouted, gesturing to a gaping hole in space. Gordon couldn’t see anything but darkness inside, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be better than just staying here. Still, he paused, considering his options… before a zombie lunged at him and he barely dodged in time. Yep, portal now!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GET INTO THE PORTAL!” Gordon shouted, charging. He only realized after it was too late that there was no solid ground on the other side. He fell through, finding himself in midair and descending rapidly towards a pool of upsettingly red liquid. He landed with a splash, swimming as quickly as he could towards shore and pulling himself up. The others followed shortly. “Are we safe?” Gordon asked as they joined him in lying on the floor and catching their breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not.” He heard Benrey say. Even though Benrey wasn’t visible anywhere nearby, everyone stood quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Into the water! Where he can’t find us!” Bubby shouted, pointing at the probably-not-filled-with-water pool. Coomer jumped in with an enthusiastic cannonball, Bubby wading in after him more hesitantly. Gordon hopped in, and looked back at Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to get my wings too wet, I need to be able to fly…” Tommy said nervously. Gordon opened his mouth to reassure him, when he felt something grabbing him and pulling him down. He screamed, with no effect but a trail of bubbles fleeing to the surface. He twisted around, stake shooting through the zombie. Bubby and Coomer were down here too, holding their own against the swarm of zombies. Coomer punched like a bipedal mantis shrimp, Bubby’s fire was useless but the blasts of boiling water he was making instead were very helpful. And at the bottom of the pool, surrounded by a swirling vortex…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a passport?” Gordon wondered aloud as he popped out the surface. An idea struck him. He may be totally wrong, but it couldn’t hurt to try. He dove back down, stabbing through any zombie in his way. He swam up to the passport, taking careful aim and shooting a stake through the passport like he was spearfishing. The zombies in the pool went limp suddenly. Bubby and Coomer looked up from now-incapacitated foes, staring quizzically at Gordon. Gordon waved, showing the passport stuck to his stake arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swam up, taking the passport with his other hand as Tommy helped him onto dry land. The passport may have just been soaked through with the red liquid, but it seemed to Gordon to be bleeding. “I think this is why he never dies.” Gordon said, as Bubby and Coomer surfaced. “I think sometime between when he took your passports and now, he attached his soul to them like a lich would. They make him invulnerable to anything we can throw at him. And now we need to destroy them if we have any chance at killing Benrey.” He glanced up, half-expecting to hear a response. Nothing, but the silence was tense rather than just empty; he could feel that Benrey was listening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby sighed, pulling himself out of the water and setting himself on fire to dry off. “It was a pain in the ass to get myself a passport. You’re telling me I have to destroy it now and go through that whole ordeal again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bubby, I would like to live!” Coomer chirped. Bubby huffed, grumbling agreement as he helped the werewolf onto shore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like a portal.” Bubby said, gesturing to another hole opened up in space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon nodded. “Let’s hope this one takes us to wherever he’s keeping the other passports.” It did not. Gordon walked back into the massive chamber where Benrey resided, the portal closing as his team followed. “He’s transformed even more!” Gordon screamed, running as Benrey realized they were back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look out, Gordon! Hotted ass up ahead! Cheeks thick ones!” Coomer shouted, pointing up at Benrey as the vampire turned to follow the hunter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to stop.” Benrey said, slamming a hand down in front of Gordon as he ran. Gordon didn’t slow, jumping up and running over Benrey’s hand. Benrey stared, processing and giving Gordon previous time to run further. Benrey snarled wordlessly, the zombies converging on Gordon’s location.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re cocooning me!” Gordon shouted as the undead swarmed over him, encasing him as they tried to find exposed skin they could bite at without getting punched. Gordon curled up, stake arm held protectively in front of his face as teeth pushed at his sleeves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GET LOST!” Bubby screamed, and Gordon felt a blast of heat way too close, smelling burning zombie on that side. He was hardly as fireproof as Coomer. He ducked, rolling his way out from the pile of zombies as Bubby shot another fireball at the heap. As he rolled, another portal opened up, with hardly enough time for Gordon to acknowledge it before he fell in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t find himself in midair this time, thankfully. But he did find himself in a room stuffed with… all he could really process was “big” and “skeletons” before they took notice of him and lunged. Gordon jumped aside, several skeletons crashing into each other before they could turn around. He could see a passport on a ledge above, but no way to reach it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, not these things again.” Bubby hissed as he came through the portal alongside Coomer and Tommy. “I’ll distract them! Someone get that passport!” He set one on fire, and as they turned, Gordon recognized the skeleton of a crocodile merging into a human one where a head should be, like a centaur. They lunged at the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have heat vision, right?” Gordon asked frantically, trying to be as cold as possible as he watched the skeletons tear apart the one on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course! They’re skeletons, how else would they see! They don’t have eyeballs! Use your goddamn head, Gordon!” Bubby snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, these creatures are from the future! I believe they’ll disappear once I do this!” Coomer said, jumping up effortlessly to the ledge with the passport. He grabbed the passport, tearing it in half, and yep. Yep, the passports do bleed now. Wonderful. The skeletons began to vanish, disappearing bone by bones. One of them screeched, lashing out at Bubby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bubby caught the clawed hand inches from his face. “See you later.” He sneered, looking very pleased with himself as the skeleton vanished. He sighed, stretching. “Glad to see the last of those things for a while. ...Now how are we going to get out?” Another portal had opened up, but it was on the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer tilted his head, then jumped down. He picked up Bubby, tossing him towards the portal. Once Bubby had vanished, Coomer turned to Tommy. “No thanks, I can fly.” Tommy said. Coomer nodded, picking up Gordon instead and flinging him upwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The momentum carried Gordon through the portal and well above it, flying high, high above Benrey as he emerged into the chamber. Gordon wondered, as he reached the high point of the arc, if it was possible for him to turn into a bat. No, didn’t seem so, he thought as he began to fall. He was saved by landing on Benrey, sliding down and splashing into the water. Gordon tensed, but Benrey was standing stock-still. Gordon couldn’t see his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vampire hunter slowly circled the monster, stifling a gasp when he saw what had happened. “His head tiny!” Gordon whispered, seeing a normal-sized head perched atop a gigantic body. He heard Tommy behind him, crying out as he was attacked by a zombie. “Oh shit!” Gordon shouted, turning around to help Tommy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Benrey said, moving again. More zombies began to appear from nowhere, swarming Tommy. The team broke out in cries of “Save Tommy!”, running in to pry as many zombies as they could off of him. Benrey frowned, tilting his head. “No, it’s okay, let Tommy go.” He said, gently picking Tommy up and putting him back down a safe distance away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, he likes Tommy, that’s- alright-” Gordon said in surprise. Huh. Maybe this could actually all be resolved peacefully- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU GUYS TO SEE HELL.” Benrey said, sounding genuinely excited. Gordon screamed, running. He could see one final portal, almost too far away to see, on the ceiling of the chamber. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coomer! Can you throw me again?” Gordon asked, pointing up towards the portal. Coomer nodded, scooping him up and throwing him. Tommy started flying, and as Gordon hurtled towards the portal he saw Coomer pick up Bubby and jump. Benrey screamed in anger, swiping at and trying to catch them. Too late; everyone made it to the portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon had no clue what he was looking at on the other side. Some kind of mech? Tommy gasped. “OH! OH MY GOD! IT’S MOKUJIN FROM TEKKEN! WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>he doing here!? Open fire, kill him!” Gordon ordered. Coomer obediently punched Mokujin once in the leg, a very light tap by Coomer’s standards. The mech crumpled, falling over and apart like a carefully balanced stack of dominos. “...Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer picked up his passport from the wreckage. “Bubby, would you like to do the honors?” Bubby grinned, nodding. Coomer tossed the passport up into the air, and it was burnt to ashes before it hit the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s… that’s the last of them, right?” Gordon asked hopefully. “I don’t have mine… your three… I think we’re okay.” For a moment, everybody was quiet, relief sinking in. The passports were gone. They could end this nightmare. Another portal opened. Thankfully easy to reach this time. Gordon took a deep breath, stepping through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately he was thrown back into chaos, zombies, shifting space and one giant, very upset vampire. Easier to deal with now that he knew Benrey could die. “HE’S GOTTA BE VULNERABLE NOW, THE PASSPORTS!” Gordon shouted. “COME ON, THAT HAS TO BE WHAT IT IS! THAT HAS TO BE HIS GAME!” But… the stakes and fire and punches and roots being hurled at Benrey had no effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys can’t hurt me!” Benrey said confidently. “There’s one passport left! Look at what I just found!” Benrey said, holding up his own passport. Gordon smacked himself in the forehead. Of course. But hey, at least they had a chance to destroy that now! Gordon was just about to give the order to aim for the spaceport when it vanished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey frowned. “Oh, it got sent through time…” His face brightened. “IT GOT SENT THROUGH TIME!” He cackled. “YOOOOOO GOOD LUCK DESTROYING IT NOW!” Gordon’s heart sank. An opening of seconds, and they’d blown it. Benrey’s hands slammed down on either side of the group, closing in to scoop them up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t accept this death.” Bubby said calmly. He pulled out what Gordon recognized as the gun Bubby had gotten back in Darnold’s lab. Bubby spun a dial, deep concentration on his face. “This used to belong to Forzen, I remember, and the labels make no damn sense. This should send you back to where the passport landed, and if it doesn’t… well, we’re all dead anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright! Alright, just do it quick!” Gordon said. Benrey’s eyes widened, and he grabbed Gordon just as Bubby pulled the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When and where Gordon landed, the sun was shining. He blinked, steadying himself as his eyes adjusted. He doesn’t think he’s seen sunshine like this in the entire region before. As his vision comes back into focus, he realizes he’s standing on the ramparts of a castle. He hears talking not too far away, the speakers pausing when they notice him. He looks over and sees Darnold and Benrey, both living. He stares for what’s probably an uncomfortable length of time. Odd to see Benrey human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhhhhhhh can I help you.” Benrey said, befuddled. Gordon blinked. Right, right, he’s here for a reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Can I see your passport?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Sure?” Benrey mumbled, taking something out of his pocket and handing it to Gordon. Darnold frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a second, before you go around demanding passports, how did you get in here-” Darnold was interrupted as Gordon stabbed through the passport, which began bleeding profusely. “Oh, well, okay then. Nevermind. Huh.” Darnold said, backing off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon felt like he owed some semblance of an explanation, but not right now. Right now, the Benrey from his time was clipping out of the castle wall below, screaming in rage and quite likely pain. He was distorted beyond recognition, features cloaked in the steam rising from his sizzling skin, and even knowing Benrey was vulnerable now Gordon opted to just run. Darnold watched, utterly fascinated. “Benrey, are you seeing this? ...Benrey?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, my passport…” Benrey mumbled, heartbroken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon kept running, screaming and not caring about the looks he gathered from everyone else he passed. Benrey was out of sight most of the time, only occasionally poking his head back out from the walls to try and bite Gordon in half. It was making it pretty hard to focus, though Gordon’s goal now was simple. Find a way to get the hell out of here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After way too close of a call, he darted into the nearest room in the vain hope of finding something helpful, slamming the door behind him the second he recognized the room was full of sunlight. The room’s inhabitant stumbled back, swearing loudly in French. Gordon blinked, surprised. “Forzen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen looked over at him, squinting suspiciously. This Forzen was alive as well, looking a lot better before spending however-long dead before clawing his way out of his grave. Forzen tilted his head. “Don’t know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time travel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Checks out.” Forzen nodded, but shook his head rapidly as Gordon approached. “Don’t touch me. Time travel rules. Don’t touch people from different times, screws with your head.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted.” Gordon said. He saw Benrey’s face emerge curiously from the floor, retreating with a hiss as the sunlight burned him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen frowned. “No, wait, come back-” He reached down, hand brushing against Benrey’s face. He froze, staying stuck in that position as Benrey disappeared. Slowly, Forzen sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Forzen, are you good?” Gordon asked cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>I kidnap a dog?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon carefully sat down next to Forzen. “You were… you were very certain about it. Will be very certain about it. I do need to go back to my own time-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benrey’s going to kill me. My friend’s going to tear out my throat and drink all my blood. And in a couple minutes I won’t even remember that it’s going to happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Uh. That sounds pretty rough. Forzen, can you send me back?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forzen stood, pulling something off a desk in his room. Looked a lot like the time gun Bubby had taken. “Mm. Gordon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make Benrey regret killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey poked his face out of the floor again. “I already regret killing you! Mean to Benrey, what the hell…” Forzen shot Gordon and Benrey. The second Gordon found himself back in that chamber, he was tackled into a group hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did it, Gordon!” Bubby cheered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gordon, I don’t know what you did, but I believe you’ve completely rewritten the course of history!” Coomer exclaimed. Gordon turned his attention back towards Benrey. The vampire was floating in the air now; not quite as big, form more stable. But still big. Still monstrous. Still ready to kill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BENREY! I hope those passports were the only thing keeping you alive! Because if not; YOU’RE DONE FOR!” Gordon cried out. He aimed his stake arm. For a moment, nothing happened; he felt his arm heating up, growing suddenly heavier before five stakes whipped out the holes at the end, all lashing straight towards Benrey. Oh, that’s why it had multiple openings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this time, Benrey bled. He swatted the stakes away, knocking them off-course from his heart and wincing at the gashes they opened instead. “It’s not enough!” Gordon yelled as Benrey held his hands protectively over his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WITNESS THE MIGHT OF MY POWER!” Bubby laughed, with the most sheer delight Gordon had ever heard from him. Without warning, Bubby was alright, the intensity and brightness of the flames obscuring any human form; destructive power personified, having a reason to fight, and at last given the chance to stop holding back. He launched himself at Benrey, the crackling of the flames indistinguishable from a battle cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey reeled back, shielding his eyes. Bubby was no sun, had no power to kill with just his light; but oh, could he make it hurt. The fact that Benrey had kept the instinctive human reaction to freak out when you’re lit on fire helped a lot. But Benrey kept his heart covered, even as he freed one hand to swat at Bubby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coomer looked down at his fists, then up at Benrey in contemplation. He turned to the vampire hunter next to him. “Gordon, if you’ll forgive me for breaking kayfabe for a moment, this would be a hell of a lot easier and more narratively satisfying if you had playcoins. But I think we can make this work! You see, if we get very lucky with the way time and space are warping right now…” Gordon heard a wolf howling in the distance. Than another. And another, and another, a growing chorus growing closer and closer… Coomer grinned as he began to transform. “WITNESS THE POWER OF 300 WOLVES!” He howled as clones began to pour into existence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! End him!” Gordon cheered as the werewolves charged, the original Coomer lost in a pack that moved like one living thing of claws and teeth swarming towards Benrey. The vampire kicked frantically at them, which did nothing to stop them jumping up and latching onto his body like furry ticks determined to kill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benrey was screaming now, actually sounding afraid for once as he clawed at his attackers. Gordon saw white fur out of the corner of his eye; weren’t all the clones already attacking? He turned, recognizing the dog. “Sunkist is here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes! Sunkist is here! Sunkist is gonna help us! Go, Sunkist, attack!” Tommy said, pointing at Benrey as he ordered Sunkist to attack. Sunkist barked, flying up into the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, yo, what the fuuuccck.” Benrey wailed as Sunkist flew right into his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sunkist, release your might!” Gordon said, taking careful aim with his stake arm. He may only have a second, and he wasn’t giving up a chance like this twice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t fair!” Benrey whined. For a split second, trying to push away Sunkist, he left his heart exposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon didn’t hesitate, firing. A stake sailed towards Benrey, spearing right through his torso. “This is it, Benrey! Going to hell! Dying for the first time, or the… tenth, I don’t know!” Benrey screamed wordlessly. “Wait, what’s happening?” Gordon asked as the world’s shuddering got worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Space began to collapse into itself, folding in. Every living member of the team huddled together, back to back as the world began to crumble. The stake retracted from Benrey, the body falling and starting to dissolve with the rest of the room. Gordon felt Tommy’s hand squeezing his own. “We’ll be fine.” Tommy whispered to him. And before Gordon could respond, the world went dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...He awoke in some kind of carriage. Across from him sat the suited man, expression professional and somber but with the faintest hint of pride. “Hey… you. You’re… finally awake, hm?” Gordon sat up slowly. His arm felt so light. “I took the liberty of relieving you of your… enhancements. As for the hand, I’d say you’ve earned it.” The suited man explained. Gordon blinked, moving his hand and marveling at the lack of pain. He turned his hand over, seeing solid wood placed like scar tissue where Benrey had torn his way in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The suited man stood. “The entity that has been… worrying so many people above and below, has been waylaid. Thanks to you, the world lives another day. I don’t expect we’ll be seeing this particular issue again anytime soon… and I believe your service has come to an end. You will, of course, be compensated. Your employer may be gone, yet… well, you certainly did rid Black Mesa of its resident vampire. But that is a concern for later. Without any further delay, I think it’s time we get going. Otherwise we’ll be late to… the party.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon had been silent this whole time, and now had found some words. “The… the party. So like… that’s a metaphor. Like I’m dead, and you’re escorting me to the afterlife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Mr. Freeman. A party at Chuck E. Cheese, for Tommy’s birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry man. I’m so sorry, they went out of business…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The suited man sighed. “I am aware. It was… a devastating loss for our family. But, there are certain people who owe me favors. I’ve arranged for a day we can all spend with the spirit of Chuck E. Cheese.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The. The rat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The family entertainment center. Don’t be absurd. The two are in different places, anyways.” The suited man said disdainfully. “Your friends are already waiting there. You don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” The carriage door swung open with a loud creaking, nothing but darkness beyond. “It is perfectly safe. I do like my dramatics.” The suited man reassured Gordon, gesturing at the void.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon stood. Not like he had very many options but to trust this guy. A thought occurred to him, and his paused at the threshold. “Hey, is Chuck E. Cheese the rat in hell, or-” The suited man shoved him through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy caught him. Gordon smiled back as Tommy beamed at him. In the background, he could see Coomer playing skee-ball by chucking the balls overhead, Bubby desperately trying to keep Sunkist from stealing his pizza, Darnold and Forzen sitting in a booth and talking too quietly for Gordon to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s birthday party was wonderful. It unsettled Gordon a bit how everything in the Chuck E. Cheese was slightly transparent, but everyone seemed happy anyways. It was when they were about to eat birthday cake that Gordon thought he heard something outside. He looked out the nearest window, seeing nothing but a bat fluttering across the parking lot. He turned back to the table and the cake being cut, trying to put it out of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still, he couldn’t help but wonder if that stake really had gone through Benrey’s heart.</span>
</p>
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